Deal with It
by luvforsawyer
Summary: Formerly titled April. PreRENT. The aftermath of April's suicide. Rated for situation & language. Please read & review. Chapter titles mostly come from lines from RENT. Characters are the sole property of the late Jonathan Larson
1. April

"Hello?"

"Mark?" a quiet voice asked.

Mark sat up, the sleep leaving his body. "Roger? What's the matter?"

"April…April's dead." His voice was little more than a tearful whisper.

Mark glanced at the clock on the nightstand. 2:37. "Where are you?"

"Her apartment."

"Did you call 911?"

"Huh?"

"Look, just stay there. We'll be there as soon as we can."

Mark heard the dial tone and hung up. Maureen rolled over, still half-asleep. "Who was it, baby?"

"Roger."

"He okay?" she asked as Mark climbed out of bed.

He grabbed his jeans off the floor and slid them on. "No. April's dead."

Maureen shot out of bed. "Oh my God! What? How?"

"I don't know. He just said she was dead and he's at her apartment."

Maureen went to the dresser and began to dress.

"What are you doing?" Mark asked, pulling a blue t-shirt over his head.

"Coming with you. Roger's my friend, too."

Mark nodded. "Okay. Five minutes. I just got to wake up Collins."

Maureen nodded and rummaged through a drawer for a clean sweater.

Mark strode down the hallway to Collins's room. He knocked on the door in warning and then opened it.

"Collins? Collins, wake up, man."

"What?" he asked, rolling over and sitting up.

"Get up. We got to go."

Collins glanced at his watch and yawned. "What the hell are you talking about? It's two in the morning."

"Roger just called. April's dead."

Collins leapt out of bed. "Give me two minutes."

Mark nodded and left him to dress. He went to the living room. Maureen sat on the couch twisting her rings on her fingers. She always did that when she got scared or nervous. Mark sat beside her and put an arm around her. She laid her head on his shoulder.

"You okay, babe?" he whispered.

She nodded into his shoulder. "I'll be fine."

Collins emerged a minute later and grabbed his coat from the back of the couch. "Let's go."

They knocked on the door to the apartment. It swung open so they went inside. Mark stepped protectively in front of Maureen as they tiptoed down the hall, unsure of what they'd find.

"Roger?" he called. The bathroom light was on.

Mark pushed open the door and saw her. April lay in the bathtub naked and bloody. Her wrists were slit. Mark closed the door before Maureen and Collins could see.

"Roger? Where are you?" Maureen said.

She heard a small noise from the living room and shook off Mark's arm to search. Maureen found him curled up in the corner of the living room. His eyes were bloodshot and teary. He hugged his knees to his chest, looking like more of a little boy than a faded rock star.

"Roger, baby, come here," she said, pulling him into her arms. "I found him!"

Roger let Maureen's arms slide around him and pull him in close. He buried his head in her shoulder and sobbed.

Collins saw them and went to the phone. He picked it up and dialed. "Yeah, um, I need to report a suicide. Address is…"


	2. Aftermath

_Didn't really plan to continue this past the first chapter, but I got a good response so I figured I'd give it a shot. Please review!_

The police had to question Roger because he was the one who'd found April. Maureen had found a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. Mark made coffee in the kitchen. Collins talked with one of the people from the coroner's office who'd shown up for the body, finding out what needed to be done.

"Since she's a suicide, we'll have to do an autopsy," the man said.

"She slit her wrists. You can see that."

"I know, but we gotta be sure there was no foul play. Case like this, I highly doubt it, but for legal purposes…"

"You gotta cover your asses, I get it," Collins said in a gentle voice.

The man looked mildly embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure it's done as quickly as possible."

"Thanks. Appreciate it."

"No problem. Very sorry for your loss…Um…After the autopsy, someone will have to claim the body. We prefer it be immediate family."

"She doesn't have any."

"Then any close friends."

"I'll do it."

"And your name?"

"Collins. Tom Collins."

"Okay, Mr. Collins. And if you can just let us know what funeral home will be handling it, we can have the body delivered there."

Collins nodded numbly. "I'll give you guys a call soon as I find that out."

"Or if you just want to bring that information when you come to identify…"

He nodded again. "Yeah, yeah, I'll bring it then."

"I'm so sorry to have to bother you with all this now."

"It's okay. I understand. Just doin' your job."

The man gave Collins a card with the address and phone number for the coroner's office. Collins thanked him and slipped the card into his jacket.

Maureen sat at Roger's side, her arm protectively around him. The police officer in charge finally stood up.

"Well that should do it, Mr. Davis. Again, terribly sorry for your loss. We'll be in touch regarding Ms. Ericsson's personal estate."

Maureen stretched out her hand to accept the officer's card. She felt Roger tense up.

"What's the matter, Rog?"

He stared ahead, not answering. Maureen heard the creak of wheels and saw a stretcher being wheeled in. She put her other arm around Roger, turning him to her. His eyes sparkled with new tears.

"Honey, don't look, okay? Just look at me. Don't look," she said.

Roger's head fell to her shoulder. Maureen rocked him gently and watched, her own silent tears falling, as they carried out April in a body bag. They placed her on the stretcher and wheeled her from the apartment.

Mark watched for a minute, but had to turn away when he saw the body bag. He stood over the kitchen sink, overwhelmed with nausea. Collins put a hand on his back.

"You okay, man?"

Mark nodded. "Just give me a minute."

"Sure. Take as long as you need."

Maureen held Roger, his hands wrapped around his stomach. His crying slowed, then stopped. He took a few deep breaths and pulled away. She wiped the tears from his cheeks.

"You okay?"

"I'll be fine."

"Let's go home, Rog."

"I need to be alone."

"Roger, you shouldn't—"

"No, I should. I need to be alone right now, okay? I'll come see you guys this afternoon. I promise."

Maureen looked at Mark and Collins. They both nodded. "Okay. But you have to promise that you'll call if you need anything at all."

"I promise."

"And you'll come over this afternoon."

"Yep. Promise."

"And you won't do anything stupid."

"I'll be fine, Maureen."

She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then hugged him again. "I love you, Rog."

"Love you too, Mo."

She rose from her place and stepped aside so the others could say goodbye. Collins said a quick farewell and ruffled Roger's hair. Mark gave him a quick hug and promised to return at any time if Roger needed him.

As they left the building, the dawn crept over the edge of the city. Maureen wondered aloud if leaving Roger alone was the right thing to do.

"People grieve in different ways. Some need to be with people. Some need to be alone," Collins said.

"Yeah, Maureen, I've known Roger for years and he's always needed to deal with tough things on his own."

Maureen bit her lip, afraid that this was different. She nodded slowly and let Mark's arm around her waist guide her back to the loft.


	3. What Roger Did

Roger waited a few minutes after his friends had left. When he felt certain they'd gone, he went to the bathroom. April's blood still stained the tub. His stomach twisted when he saw it. He opened the drawer where they usually kept the drugs. Nothing.

Roger went to the bedroom and felt around under the mattress. Nothing. He felt tears of frustrated grief rising to his eyes. The nightstand drawers were empty. Roger dug around in his drawer in the dresser. Nothing. He hesitated and went to the closet, searching the pockets and purses. Still he was empty-handed.

The morning sun poked through the windows. He needed a fix, now, before he had to go to the loft. His search grew more frantic. Roger opened a few more drawers, not bothering to shut them behind him. He rummaged through the kitchen drawers and cabinets, under the sink, under all the couch cushions.

Desperate, Roger returned to the bathroom. The tears now dropped down his face. He yanked open the drawers. Makeup, tampons, creams and lotions. One drawer was nearly empty. The drawer they kept the condoms in, though they seldom bothered with using them. A piece of paper caught Roger's eye.

_Roger,_

_I'm sorry. I got tested. Baby, we got AIDS._

_I love you,_

_April_

He read the note again and again, not believing a word of it. His head shook as the tears streamed down his face. His hands shook as he carried it to the living room. Roger set the letter carefully on the table and went to the kitchen. He found a nearly full bottle of aspirin and a bottle of vodka. Sitting on the couch, Roger stared at the letter as he swallowed the pills one by one, waiting for the pain to end. His tears didn't stop.

Maureen paced the loft. "He should be here by now."

"Calm down, Maureen. I'm sure he's fine. He'll be here soon."

"It's after four."

"I know," Mark said with a sigh.

"Well where is he?"

"I don't know. You want me to call again?"

Maureen nodded, biting her lip. She ran a hand through her dark curls. She watched Mark pick up the phone and make the call. A minute later, he hung up.

"Still no answer?"

Mark shook his head.

"Something's wrong."

"Maureen, he's probably on his way here. He can't very well answer if he's not there."

Maureen shook her head and picked up her coat. "I'm going over there."

Mark flung his scarf around his neck and grabbed his coat, chasing her down the stairwell.

"Stay here in case he comes by," she called over her shoulder.

Mark sighed and retreated back to the loft. "Call me when you get there."

Maureen hurried down the block. Something wasn't right. She could feel it. They shouldn't have left him. Her gut instinct had told her not to leave. Still, Collins and Mark knew him better, at least that's how it always seemed. When she reached the apartment building two and a half blocks away, Maureen bolted up the stairs.

"Roger?" she called as she knocked on the door.

There was no answer.

Maureen knocked louder. "Roger! Are you in there?"

Growing concerned, Maureen tried the knob. He hadn't locked it. She stepped inside, every step more cautious than the last.

"Roger? Roger, where are you?"

Maureen took a deep breath and forced herself to glance into the bathroom where Mark had found April. It was empty. She continued on to the living room.

"Roger!"

The rocker sat slumped over on the couch. Maureen stared in disbelief at the empty bottle in his hand.

"What is this?"

Roger stared blankly ahead, oblivious to Maureen's presence. She pried the bottle from his hand. Aspirin. Glancing around, she saw the now empty vodka bottle on the coffee table. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Roger! What the fuck is this?"

When he didn't answer, she picked up the phone and dialed the loft.

"Hello?"

"I'm here."

"Roger there?"

"Not for long. Meet us at the hospital."

"What? Why? What happened?"

"He took a bottle of aspirin."

"We'll meet you there."

Maureen hung up and dialed 911. "Yeah…um…my-my friend….I came over to visit and he…um….I think he overdosed….aspirin….I don't know. The bottle's empty….um… the-there's an empty bottle of vodka……please, hurry….okay….okay….hurry….thank you."

Forty-five minutes later, Mark and Collins leapt out of a cab. Collins paused long enough to thrust some money at the cabbie.

"Keep the change," he said over his shoulder as they ran inside.

Maureen sat in the waiting room, tapping her feet and twirling her hair. Her eyes were puffy and red. Mark went to her and knelt in front of her. She wrapped her arms around him, crying again. Collins stood beside Mark and put a hand on the back of her head, stroking her hair.

"What happened?" Mark whispered as she pulled back.

"I don't know. I got there and the door was locked. And I was going to leave but I remembered that Roger never locks the damn doors and I tried it and it was open and….and he wouldn't answer me….there….he was on the couch with an empty bottle of aspirin and….and there was an empty bottle of vodka….He wouldn't answer me, Mark. He wouldn't answer me."

Mark tried to calm her as his own fears grew. Collins moved away from them both and stared out the window. He needed to stay strong for them. A doctor appeared a few minutes later. He cleared his throat to announce his presence.

Collins stepped up to him. "How is he?"

"Are you with Roger Davis?"

"Yeah. How is he?"

"Can we see him?" Mark asked, looking up at the doctor.

"Mr. Davis overdosed on aspirin. He was in liver failure when he was brought in. The alcohol undoubtedly worsened his condition. There's likely some permanent damage to his liver."

"Will he be okay?" Collins asked.

The doctor nodded. "We were able to pump his stomach and get him stabilized."

"Can we see him?"

The doctor nodded. "Only for a few minutes, though. He needs to rest. I'd like to keep him for a couple of days for observation. Does one of you have his insurance information, by chance?"

Mark and Collins stared at each other and shook their heads. "He doesn't have insurance…" Collins mumbled.

"He'll need to pay the costs of his treatment and care, then."

"He can't afford that! He's a musician," Maureen said.

The doctor frowned. "I'm afraid that with no insurance and no money, Mr. Davis will have to be dis—"

"It'll be paid," a man said, coming up behind the doctor.

"Benny?" Mark sounded as surprised as Collins felt to see Benny.

"I called him," Maureen said, knowing they'd fight about it later.

"I'll pay it. Just keep him here as long as he needs to be," Benny said. The doctor nodded and took Benny's name and telephone number.

"Can we see him now? Please?" Maureen asked.

The doctor nodded and led the way down the hall. Mark held her hand, not so much as glancing at her. Collins went ahead with the doctor. Benny lagged behind. Maureen listened for his footsteps behind her and frowned.

"You coming Ben?" Maureen asked over her shoulder.

"You guys go. I'll wait here," he said.


	4. Visiting Hours

"You called Benny?" Mark asked as they followed the doctor.

"Yes. You wanna talk about it, we'll talk later."

The doctor stopped halfway down a hallway and turned to them. "As I said before, only a few minutes. Five, at most. We want him resting as much as possible."

"Of course. Thank you," Collins said. He moved past the doctor and into the stark hospital room.

Roger lay, pale and sleeping. Collins looked to the doctor, concern washing over his face.

"He's resting. It's all right."

The doctor nodded to the group and left. Mark hung back uncertainly as Maureen approached Roger's bedside. She felt tears sting her eyes. Roger's hand twitched and his lids fluttered open.

"Mo?"

Maureen smiled and reached out a hand to brush his hair from his forehead. "Hi, sweetie. How you feeling?"

Roger didn't answer her. His eyes shifted to Mark, then Collins.

"You okay, Rog?" Mark asked.

He managed a small nod. "Don't know what happened…I just wanted it to stop. I just….I just wanted everything to stop."

Tears formed in his eyes and Maureen sat on the bed, wrapping her arms around him. "Shh…don't worry about it, baby. We'll talk about all that later. It's okay. We'll figure it out. You'll be okay."

After a minute she stood again and went to Mark's side. Collins stepped up to where Maureen had been and patted Roger's hand.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"You're gonna be all right, man," Collins said.

Roger nodded, but stared at the blanket.

"Rog, look at me."

The younger man's eyes shifted up.

"You're gonna be fine. I ain't lettin' you give up."

"Thanks, Thomas."

Collins patted his shoulder and leaned down to give him a quick hug. "I'll come back later, okay?"

"Okay."

Mark stood at the end of the bed, not moving.

"Hey," Roger said softly.

"Hi. You okay?"

"Still here."

"I…you….we'll come back soon, okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Maureen stepped up again and kissed his cheek. "I'll be back soon. Try and rest."

Roger nodded and closed his eyes as they slipped out of the room.


	5. Benny

Benny paced the waiting room. He rolled and unrolled his shirt sleeves. His headache worsened to a dull migraine. Benny pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing he knew what the hell was going on. The phone call with Maureen had been brief.

"_Benjamin Cof—"_

"_Benny, it's me."_

"_Hey, Mo. What's goin' on?"_

"_I'm at the hospital. Roger took a bunch of aspirin and he's—I don't know how he is. Mark and Collins are on their way."_

"_They're not gonna want me there."_

"_Well I do. You're still our roommate and you're still our friend and I want you here. Please, Benny. Hurry?"_

"_I'll be there in fifteen minutes."_

Maureen and Mark reappeared after what seemed like an hour. Benny checked his watch. Four minutes. Collins was a few feet behind them, looking tired. Benny frowned.

"Well?"

"I'm going to go get some coffee," Mark said. "Anybody want?"

Maureen and Benny shook their heads. Collins tapped Mark's shoulder. "I'll come with."

Benny waited for the two to leave before saying anything. "How is he?"

"He'll be okay. Resting now. They want him under observation."

"What the hell happened?"

Maureen shrugged and crossed her arms. "Not sure. I got there and he'd taken God knows how many aspirin with vodka."

"Shit…anyone talked to April?"

Maureen's eyes widened as she realized he still didn't know. He'd been at Allison's last night and they hadn't had a chance to talk to him. Maureen asked Benny to sit down and, as calmly as she could, told him of April's suicide.

Benny hadn't known April. They'd only met once. Still, he knew how much Roger cared about her and it broke his heart to know that her death had caused such a pain in one of his friends. Even one he didn't always see eye to eye with.

"Um…do-do you think I could maybe see him?"

Maureen bit her lip, weighing the decision. When she didn't answer, Benny shook his head. "It's okay. No big deal. Don't worry about it."

"Benny, I just—"

"Mo, I get it. It's not your fault. Besides, hospitals ain't exactly the best places to make apologies. And I meant what I told that doctor. I'll take care of the hospital bill. Don't let Roger worry about it."

"Thanks, Ben."

Benny stood up and offered a hand to help Maureen to her feet. He leaned down and hugged her.

"Tell him I said hi, okay?"

Maureen nodded. Benny stepped back and gave a little wave before turning and leaving. He didn't care to wait around for Mark and Collins.


	6. Maureen

_Just wanted to say thanks for all the positive feedback…It's really encouraging. Don't think I need the usual disclaimer on these. Obviously the characters aren't mine. They belong completely to the one and only Mr. Jonathan Larson, musical genius._

"Why did she have to call him?" Mark asked when they were a safe distance down the hallway.

"Don't know, man. Like it or not, though, he's still our roommate. And was our friend."

"Key word there being 'was.' Benny doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us."

Collins stopped and pushed the button for the elevator. "C'mon now, Mark. You know that ain't true. He didn't have to come down here. Even if Maureen called him, he could've said no."

Mark sighed. "Fine. So he still gives a shit. What right—"

"Mark, I'm as pissed as the next guy over how Benny's been actin' lately, but what the hell's your problem? He wanted to make sure Roger was okay. Nothin' wrong with that."

The filmmaker rolled his eyes and stepped onto the elevator. Collins followed.

"You gonna tell me why you're takin' all this so personal?"

"What?"

"First you get pissed at Benny for no obvious reason. Then you're okay with him. Then you're pissed he's getting married. Now you're throwing a tantrum that he wants to make sure Roger's alive."

"Nothing."

"Mark—"

"I said it's nothing, Collins," the harshness of his tone surprised both of them.

"Okay, fine. Whatever you say."

"Sorry. I just…It's my problem, okay?"

Collins nodded.

Maureen sat alone after Benny left. She tried flipping through a magazine, but couldn't focus her attention. The clock in the waiting room ticked each minute off slower than the last.

"Oh screw this," she muttered. She strode out of the waiting room and headed back to Roger's room.

Roger was sleeping again. Maureen sat quietly in the chair by the bedside and stared at him. His head turned slightly. His hair fell across his forehead, grazing his eyebrows. Maureen brushed it away. Roger's eyes opened.

"You always gonna do that?" he asked in a quiet voice.

"Do what?"

"Brush my hair outta my face?"

Maureen smiled. "Till you get that damned mop cut, yes."

Roger managed a weak smile. His eyes shifted around the room. "You alone?"

"Mark and Collins went for coffee."

"And left you to babysit?"

She shook her head. "No, no, I didn't want any."

Roger frowned. "What's wrong?"

Maureen looked up at him. "What?"

"What's wrong?"

She twirled her hair between her fingers. "Nothing. What makes you think something's wrong?"

"Cause you always twirl your hair like that when you're upset."

"Rog—"

"Mo, I've known you since we were fifteen. I know when something's buggin' you."

"Maybe that you're laying in a hospital bed."

"Maybe, but that's not it."

"I called Benny," she whispered.

"You huh?"

"Called Benny," Maureen said louder.

Roger nodded. "He here?"

Maureen shook her head. "He was but Mark and Collins….mainly Mark….well, you

know…"

Roger nodded. "Yeah, I know."

"He asked me to tell you he says hi though."

"Hi back."

Someone in the doorway cleared her throat. Maureen turned. "Visiting hours are over."

"Oh, okay, I'll just…um….I'll see you tomorrow. Okay?"

"I'll be here."

Maureen kissed his cheek again and followed the nurse out. Roger held his tears until the nurse had shut the door behind them.


	7. Paranoia

Benny sat in his car a few minutes before deciding to go back to the loft. Still his house too, damn it. He sped down the road, trying not to think of Mark's anger and its justification.

"_Maureen, you're drunk."_

"_Not so drunk that I dunno what I'm doing," she slurred._

_She kissed Benny, wrapping her arms around his neck. He started to push her away, but he'd been drinking too. His resistance weakened and his arms circled her waist, pulling her closer to him._

Benny shook his head. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."

Collins and Mark stood silent in the elevator back up to the waiting room.

"Sooner or later, you're gonna have to talk to him," Collins said.

"Don't have to do anything."

Collins rolled his eyes as he followed Mark out of the elevator. Maureen was just heading back to the waiting room.

"Where'd you go?" Mark asked.

"Visit Roger. Say goodnight."

"Visiting hours are over."

"Yeah, I know. Nurse Ratchett over there kicked me out."

"Where's Benny?"

"Left."

Mark glanced down the hallway then stared at Maureen. "Left?"

"Mark, quit being paranoid! Yes, he left. About thirty seconds after you. You want to go see the security tape?"

Collins watched them both and wondered what the hell he'd missed working up at M.I.T.


	8. Withdrawal

"Fine. Whatever. You ready?"

"I'm staying here," she said, crossing her arms.

"What?" Collins asked.

"I'm staying here. I'll sleep in the waiting room."

"Maureen—"

"No, Collins, it's fine. Really. I think someone should be here for Roger." She stared at Mark as she said each word.

"Um, Mark?"

The filmmaker's jaw tightened. "Fine. Whatever. I'll be back in the morning. Collins, you staying over?"

"Yeah, no classes tomorrow. Mind if I crash at the loft?"

"Not at all. See you tomorrow, Mo." Mark turned and headed back towards the elevator before she could say anything.

"Bye," she whispered.

"You two okay, Maureen?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Fine. Just….we're fine. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Okay, bye."

They hugged and Collins darted down the hall to the elevators.

Maureen dozed in a waiting room chair. A scream jolted her out of sleep. She jumped to her feet. A nurse ran towards the scream. It was a man.

"Roger," she mumbled.

Maureen rushed past the nurses' station, not giving a damn about their visiting policies. In Roger's room, she saw him thrashing about on the bed. His eyes were clenched tightly, forehead wrinkled with fear.

"Miss, please—" a nurse said, trying to edge past her.

Maureen ignored the woman's request and went to Roger's side. "Roger?" She shook his arm.

"Miss—"

"Roger? Wake up! Roger!"

He gasped as he sat up, eyes full of tears. Roger's legs kicked out. His screams quieted, but the tears continued and his fear seemed to grow. Sweat dripped down his forehead, pale against the bed. Maureen shrank back against the wall and let the nurse slide past her. The nurse checked his vitals and made a few notes. Shaking her head, she strode out. Maureen started to follow.

"Maureen? Maureen, don't go," Roger said.

She turned and went back to him, trying to hide her own fear. "It's okay, honey. I'm here."

"Maureen, you have to help me."

"What? What is it?" she asked, sinking to his bedside.

His clammy hand held hers tightly. "My clothes are in the closet over there. There's twenty bucks in my wallet. You gotta go to the alley by the loft. The one across from the Cat Scratch Club. They, um, there's a guy there. Ask if he's The Man. He'll sell you some stuff. I need you to get as much as you can with twenty—"

Maureen jerked her hand from his. "Rog, what are you asking me? What is it you want me to buy?"

"Drugs."

Maureen stood up, shaking her head.

"Maureen, please. I need it. I-I can't do this. It hurts. It hurts."

"Roger, I can't."

"Mo, please…I-I need you. Please. Just a little bit. Please."

Maureen shook her head again, wiping her tears. "I'm going now, Roger."

"Maureen…."

She went back to the nurses' station, not trusting herself to stay any longer. The nurse behind the desk seemed to be waiting for her. A sympathetic look washed over her face when she saw Maureen's tears.

"What's wrong with him? Why was he shaking like that?"

The nurse bit her lip. "That information isn't—"

"I'm on his next-of-kin list or whatever the hell you call it."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't realize….what did you say your name was?"

"Maureen Johnson."

The nurse flipped through a few pages of the chart, verifying that she was on Roger's contact list. "Mr. Davis is in withdrawals. That's why he was shaking and why he was having the nightmares."

"Withdrawals?"

"Didn't the doctor tell you?"

"No. Tell me what?"

The nurse frowned. "The results must've come in after he spoke with you."

"What results?"

"When Mr. Davis was brought in, he tested positive for drugs."

"Yeah, aspirin. He overdosed—"

The nurse shook her head. "Miss, he tested positive for heroin."

Maureen's tears froze. "What do you mean?"

"I mean there was a blood test that showed Mr. Davis was on drugs, not just aspirin. When the doctor questioned him he confessed to being a heroin addict."

Maureen felt the color leaving her cheeks. She took a deep breath. "I…um…okay."

"Are you all right, miss?"

"Yeah, yeah, I just, um, I didn't know."

"Would you like to speak with the doctor?"

"Maybe tomorrow. I'm going home for the night."

The nurse nodded sympathetically. Maureen tucked her purse under her arm and headed for the elevator. She thought about calling Mark, but couldn't bring herself to tell him something like that on the phone. Instead, she stepped into the cold night air and started the walk home to the loft.

Maureen jogged up the stairs to the loft. She slid open the door. Collins stood in the kitchen pouring a drink. Mark sat on the couch, yawning. They looked up at the sound of the door.

"Maureen, you changed your mind," Collins said with a smile.

Maureen tried to smile, but couldn't. Mark looked up from his camera and frowned.

"What's the matter? What is it, baby?"

"There's…Roger….he…"

She wasn't crying anymore, only stammering. Her body was stiff and her eyes blank. Collins set down his glass.

"Maureen? What happened? Is Roger okay?"

She shook her head and stepped away from Mark. "Did you know he's on drugs?"

"What?" Collins asked.

"Drugs. Did either of you know Roger's on drugs? That he shoots up?"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about Roger being a heroin junkie!"

Mark's jaw dropped. His knees buckled and he sank back down to the couch. "Are you sure?"

"He's in withdrawals. I, um, I was in the waiting room. I heard him screaming. Nightmare. So I went and he, he was shaking. Like, shaking more than I've seen anyone shake before. And then he woke up and he saw me and….and he asked me to go buy him some…some drugs."

Mark looked over his shoulder at Collins. The professor swallowed hard and moved to the armchair.

"How do you know it's heroin?"

"The nurse, um….after he asked me to buy drugs, I left. I couldn't….I had to go…I just, I didn't know what to think. So I asked the nurse and she told me he tested positive for drugs and told the doctor it's heroin."

"Are you okay?" Mark asked.

She nodded. "Yeah, um, yeah. I'm fine."

Maureen stood up slowly from the couch. Mark started to stand but she waved him off, saying she just needed to use the bathroom. The bathroom door clicked shut and Collins stared at Mark.

"Did you know?" Collins asked.

"What?"

"About Roger. Did you know?"

"I knew he'd smoked pot."

"Aw, hell, Mark, all of us do that!"

"Exactly. It never crossed my mind that he would do anything harder. You have any idea."

Collins shook his head. "I'd have beat his ass if I'd known."


	9. No Other Way

The next morning, Maureen refused to go to the hospital.

"Come on, Maureen," Mark said.

"I'm not going."

"Maureen, come on. He needs us."

"He needs his drugs. Least that's what he told me."

"Because he was in withdrawals. Roger's gonna need our support. Yours most of all," Mark said.

She pouted, knowing he was right. Collins slipped on his jacket and handed Maureen hers. "You don't have to go in and see him."

"I don't?"

"Not if you don't want to. We'll tell him you're in the waiting room. That way he'll at least know you're there."

Maureen looked to Mark. "You won't try and make me talk to him, will you?"

"Maureen, even if I wanted to, have I ever succeeded in making you do anything?"

She laughed and took her jacket. "Never. That's why we're so good together."

Collins went to the nurses' station with Mark. "We're friends of Roger Davis."

"I'm his next-of-kin," Mark said.

"Okay, the doctor should be in shortly. He can fully inform you as to Mr. Davis's condition."

"How was his night?" Collins asked.

The nurse frowned. "A bit rough….do you know about the drugs?"

"I found out last night," Mark said.

"Well, Mr. Davis had a rough night from the withdrawals. He's all right though. He's resting now but you can go in and see him if you'd like."

"Thank you," Mark said.

"You go ahead, Mark. I'll be there in a second."

Mark looked confused but headed down the hall towards Roger's room. Collins turned to the nurse.

"You got a rehab center here?"

"Pardon?"

"Look, you and me both know there's no way that a few days in the hospital is gonna help an addiction."

The nurse frowned but nodded.

"So you got one or not?"

"Well, not here. But I can give you some information on local facilities that might be able to help."

"I'd really appreciate that."

"No problem," she said. The nurse sat at the desk for a minute, shuffling through papers and files. She handed a thin stack of papers to Collins with a polite smile.

"Thanks," Collins said.

The nurse nodded and went back to her work. Collins took the stack and headed to the waiting room. Maureen looked up from a magazine.

"That was fast," she said.

"Didn't go in yet. I was talkin' to the nurse."

"About what? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay. I asked her about rehab places."

"Roger'll never go for it."

"Roger ain't gonna have a choice about it. Could you just do me a favor and hang onto these out here? I think you and me and Mark should look over this stuff before we talk to Rog about it."

Maureen nodded and took the stack from it, setting the papers carefully under her purse

on an end table.


	10. That Drip of Hurt

Mark stood in the doorway, staring at Roger's sleeping form. He felt like such an idiot. How had he not known Roger had a drug problem? The guy lost his job, got kicked out of the band…Roger sighed and his eyes fluttered open. Mark sauntered over, trying to control his anger.

"Mark," he mumbled.

Mark winced as Roger's legs kicked beneath the blankets. He hated seeing any of his friends in pain. Roger's face was pale and sweaty as he writhed on the bed. Mark picked up a towel from the sink near the bathroom and held it out to Roger. He took it and wiped at his face, looking confused and desperate.

"Maureen….Is Maureen here?"

Mark's jaw tightened. "She's in the waiting room."

"She's supposed to go get me something," he mumbled.

"She's not getting you anything, Roger."

Roger's eyes widened. "Mark, she said—"

"She said no. And she told Collins and I what you wanted."

"Shit," he whispered.

"You're going to get through this, Roger."

"I don't want to get through it! I just want to get out of this damn hospital! I just—"

"Shut up! You're not doing this. Maureen's not buying your drugs and neither is anyone else."

Roger's eyes turned fearful, then flashed with anger. "So what? You just here to yell at me?"

"No, I'm here to make sure you're not dead and that you don't do anything stupid."

"Go to hell."

Mark sighed and turned to leave. He reached the door before Roger called out to him. Mark stopped, but didn't turn.

"Mark? Marky? Please….don't be mad, okay? I didn't mean to….I didn't….this wasn't supposed to happen…"

Mark could hear the tears in Roger's voice and turned back to him. "And what the hell was supposed to happen, Roger?"

"Nevermind."

"No, you brought it up. What the hell was supposed to happen when you swallowed a bottle of aspirin and a bottle of vodka?"

"I just wanted it to stop," he whispered.

Mark shook his head and crossed back to Roger's bed. He sat down beside Roger, his anger dissipating. Roger curled up in the fetal position, clutching his stomach. Mark waited in silence. After a minute, Roger uncurled himself. "Mark…"

"I'm right here."

"Mark, I need…."

"Don't even finish that sentence, Roger. I'm going to go talk to the doctor. I'll send Collins in to sit with you."

Mark left, nearly bumping into Collins.

"Hey, man. How's he doin'?"

"He wants the drugs. In withdrawals. Told him I'd send you in."

Collins nodded. "Well, Mo's got some rehab info in the waiting room."

"I'll look it over. Any sign of the doctor?"

"Nah. Should be here soon though."

"I'll hang around here then. How's Maureen?"

"Uh, okay, I think. I mean, I only saw her a minute to ask her to hang onto the pamphlets. Figure we oughta talk the three of us before talkin' to Roger."

Mark nodded in agreement and headed back to the waiting room.


	11. Dark Dizzy Merry Go Round

_**Note: **The stage version of RENT hints at Maureen having an eating disorder. This is my idea of how it would've played into pre-RENT events. Please note if you have an eating disorder, or know someone who does, you should seek professional medical attention immediately._

Maureen went to the cafeteria while Mark and Collins talked to the doctor. She didn't want to talk to the doctor. Her stomach knotted and twisted with the thoughts of what was happening. She stopped at a payphone to call Benny.

"Hello?"

"Allison? It's me. Benny around?"

"No, no. He's at the office. Is everything okay?"

"Um, yeah….did he tell you about Roger?"

"Yes. How is he?"

"Okay. Do you know when Benny might be back?"

"He's working till five or six and then he wanted to stop by the hospital to see Roger."

"Okay. Thanks."

"No problem."

_Click._

She headed to the cafeteria, but couldn't bring herself to buy anything but coffee. Maureen doubted she could stomach anything else. Sitting at a table in the corner, Maureen started to look over the pamphlets and papers from the nurse. _The Facts About Drugs. The Truth about Heroin. When Your Loved One is an Addict. Recovering from Addiction._ Maureen didn't realize she was crying until her tears blurred her vision, the titles blending together. She put her face in her hands, crying softly.

After a moment, Maureen sat up, new determination setting in. She stuffed the pamphlets and papers into her purse, not caring that they bent and crumpled. As she stood up, she wiped her tears from her face. Maureen headed straight to the bathroom, pausing only long enough to toss her coffee into the garbage can.

In the bathroom, Maureen rummaged through her purse for a hair tie. She locked the door, glad that it was a single occupancy. Kneeling down, Maureen set her purse against the wall and leaned over the toilet. She took a deep breath and slipped one finger, then two down her throat.

A few minutes later, Maureen wiped her mouth and stood up. She hated throwing up, but at least she felt in control of something. The bitter acid taste in her mouth wouldn't go away even after she'd washed out her mouth in the sink.

She fished a few quarters out of her purse and went to the vending machines she'd passed on the way to the bathroom. The mint-flavored gum took away the flavor. Maureen sucked on one piece to rid her mouth of the taste and then tossed it for another to freshen her breath. She headed back up to the waiting room, feeling more composed. Mark and Collins were waiting when she got there.

"Thought you were going to get food?" Mark asked.

"Yeah, didn't have anything good though."

"Oh…well, the doctor said that Roger can go tomorrow."

"Go where?"

"Rehab or home. Wherever," Collins said.

"He needs rehab."

"Mark's right."

"Mo, you got those pamphlets I gave you?"

"Yeah, right here," Maureen said, digging them out.

The trio spread them out on the low coffee table. Mark and Collins sat in the armchairs facing it while Maureen sat on the floor. They poured over the packets and went over each one. One by one, they tossed the pamphlets into the discard pile.

"Guys, we can't afford this."


	12. Will I Lose My Dignity?

Mark sat down in the chair next to Roger's bed. Collins sat in the rocking chair while Maureen leaned against the windowsill. Benny had left again, insisting Roger wouldn't want to see him and that he had to get home to Allison. Roger's legs still trembled, his hands shaking. He sat up, clutching his stomach.

"I'm gonna be sick," he mumbled.

Maureen leapt up and grabbed a basin the nurse had left. She held it in front of him with one hand and wrapped the other arm around his back. When he was done, she went to the garbage can and tossed it in.

"I'll go get another basin," Mark said.

It was day three of the withdrawals; they all knew by now that it was a matter of time before he threw up again. Better to be prepared. Maureen grabbed a towel and wiped at Roger's sweaty face. Tears clouded his eyes.

"Mo…."

"Shh…I'm here, baby. It's okay. You're going to be okay. You'll be fine," she whispered, stroking his hair.

Collins rocked quietly in the chair, watching them. He'd never been good with sick people. Thank God Maureen had some maternal instinct when it came to her friends.

Mark returned a minute later with a fresh basin and set it on the nightstand. Roger flopped back against the pillows, groaning.

"You okay, man?" Mark asked.

Roger nodded slowly.

"Good. We need to talk."

Maureen held Roger's hand, hating that he was trembling from head to toe.

"About what?" he asked, looking to Maureen.

"About the drugs," she said.

"I—"

"We think you need rehab," Mark said.

Roger glared at him. "I don't need rehab. I'm fine. I just—I just need to get out of here so—"

"Rog, Mark was trying to be nice. Let me make it clearer for you. You need rehab."

"Fuck you, Collins. Rehab is for junkies."

"We can't afford a rehab stay, but that's fine. We'll help you through the withdrawals at the loft."

"What the hell do you know, Collins?"

They stared at him. He glared at all of them, shaking his head. "I'm fine! I don't need help. I need to go home!"

"Rog….you need to let us help you," Maureen whispered.

"Maureen, I'm not an addict," his eyes filled with tears as he said the last word.

Maureen held up the hand she was holding. "Baby, look how bad you're shaking. This…all that you're going through right now….you don't go through withdrawals for no reason. You need to get help."

"I'm not an addict." His voice was firmer, but his eyes looked scared.

"Roger, please. You're one of my best friends. Please. You need help."

When Roger didn't answer, she stood up and went to Collins. Mark sat on the bed and waited for Roger to look at him.

"Roger, you're done doing this. We're not letting you stay in the loft unless you're clean."

"You're kicking me out?"

"No. I'm making you choose. Us or the drugs."

"Mark, please….I-I can't do this…"

"Yes, yes you can. I know you can, Rog. And we'll all help you. You can beat this. I know you can."

Roger's tears spilled out. "Can you ask them to leave a minute?" he whispered.

Mark nodded and turned to Maureen and Collins. "Guys? Think we could get a minute?"

Collins put his hands on Maureen's shoulders and steered her out of the room and towards the waiting room. Mark looked at Roger.

"HIV," Roger whispered.

"What?"

"April left a note…when she—when….it-it said I have AIDS."

Mark's eyes filled with tears. "No, no, Rog. She might've been wrong. Even if she had it, it doesn't mean you do. You're—"

"They did a test…I told the doctor about the note and he did a test. I—I didn't tell you because…because I didn't want her to be right…."

"Did he get the results yet?" Mark knew the answer before he'd finished asking the question.

Roger's tears turned to sobs. "I'm HIV-positive."

Mark's arms went around Roger, hugging him tightly. Both of them cried. It was a death sentence. Just a matter of time before Roger would be gone.

"You'll beat this. You'll be okay." Mark didn't believe the words he whispered to his best friend, but felt he had to make one of them believe it.

"Mark…when—when people find out…I—they-they're gonna hate me…nobody's going to…"

"I'll still be there," Mark said, pulling away. He stared at Roger, looking him straight in the eye. "Brothers for life, remember? I'm not going anywhere."

"What about everyone else?"

"Everyone else can either deal with it or go fuck themselves."

Roger gave a small smile. "Am I rubbin' off on you after all these years, Cohen?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Davis."

"Mark, what if I can't do this? I…ever since….I just…I don't think I can do this."

"Doesn't matter. I know you can."

"Just…um…when you…don't tell anybody, okay?"

Mark nodded. "You have to tell Maureen and Collins."

"I will…I just give me some time, okay?"

Mark frowned. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why didn't you tell us there was a note?"

"I didn't know there was. I didn't find it until…after you guys left. I was looking…I was looking for any of our stash that was left…There was nothing left in the drawer but she left the note there. She knew I'd look there."

"Is that why you took all the pills?"

Roger's eyes filled with tears. "Mark, I don't want to die."

Mark didn't know what to say, so he put his arms around Roger and hugged him until all their tears were gone.


	13. Goodbye Love

They decided to bury April as soon as Roger was released from the hospital. Collins arranged it all. They went from the hospital to the cemetery. The minister presiding over the funeral mumbled a few traditional prayers and asked if anyone wanted to speak.

"I think we can take it from here," Mark said.

The minister nodded, understanding their need to grieve and eulogize April on their own. Maureen stood between Roger and Mark. She clung to Mark's arm, her head on his shoulder. One hand, though, clasped Roger's. He stood, eerily calm, staring at the headstone.

Collins stood closest to the stone and cleared his throat. "Anyone want to say anything?"

Roger took a step forward and let go of Maureen's hand. She turned in towards Mark, arms locking around his waist. He held her close, his hands brushing over her dark curls. He watched Roger shake off Collins's hand.

"April…baby… I—God, April….why the hell….I'm sorry…I'm sorry for everything I ever did wrong…I'm sorry you got….that I couldn't fix it…. I'm sorry you felt like this was the only way out. I'm sorry. I'm just…I miss you so much, babe. I-I'm sorry. I just…I love you. I'm sorry that I love you."

Maureen tried to step towards him, but Mark held her back and shook his head at Collins. Roger needed to say whatever he was going to say.

"I'm sorry that I loved you. I'm sorry that I listened to you and tried the drugs. I'm sorry I didn't love you enough to make you get help."

At the last part, he broke off in sobs. His shoulders shook but he put a hand up, warding off Collins. The professor moved to Mark and Maureen. Mark slid Maureen's arms from his waist and passed her to Collins. She cried into Collins's chest, hardly realizing he wasn't Mark.

Mark went to Roger. The rock star shoved his hands away.

"Rog, come…"

"No. No, just leave me alone. Don't touch me…"

Mark persisted. Roger's legs buckled beneath his sobs and he fell to the ground. He tried to push Mark away again.

"Roger, it's okay. It's okay," Mark said through his own tears.

Roger shook his head, pulling his knees to his chest. "It's not okay. It's not. She's gone, Mark….she's gone…"

"I know, man. I know."

"I don't want to die," he whispered.

Mark's arms pulled Roger to him. This time, he didn't fight, but rather collapsed against Mark's thin frame.

When they returned to the loft, Roger went straight to his room. Nobody followed him; Mark had scoured the apartment and rid it of any trace of drugs.

"What if he goes back?" Maureen asked.

Collins shook his head. "First few months are hardest. We'll make sure someone's always with him. Make it a condition of not going to regular rehab."

Mark hesitated, staring at Roger's closed bedroom door. "Collins… I don't know…how are we going to…"

"We can do it. I'll take time off from work. I've got enough in savings to miss a few weeks, if they don't want to make it vacation time. And Collins, you've got a break coming up, don't you?"

"Yeah. I gotta go back next week for finals but then everyone's home for summer."

Mark nodded slowly. "Okay, but we have to agree on this. All three of us. No drugs whatsoever. Nobody gives him so much as an aspirin without telling the other two."

Maureen and Collins nodded.

"And if he so much as touches drugs again, real rehab. No matter what the cost," Maureen said.

"Rog, come here a sec," Collins said.

Roger emerged from the bedroom. His eyes were red and swollen from tears. He went towards them slowly, studying each one's expressions. "What?"

"You serious about being clean?"

"Course."

"For real, Roger?"

He nodded.

"We're going to make sure you're never alone. I can take time off work. Collins only has another week left of the term and then he's home too."

"There's going to be some rules," Mark said. "First, no drugs. Period. None. You so much as touch anything, your ass will be in rehab so fast you won't know what hit you. Even aspirin. You got a headache? You tell us. One of us will give it to you."

"Okay."

"And no being alone. Someone will be with you at all times, obvious exceptions being the bathroom and shower," Maureen said.

Roger hesitated, but nodded. "And…and you guys….you'll help me?"

"Of course we'll help you, baby," Maureen said.

"All of us will," Mark said.


	14. You're Not Alone

Collins had to leave in the morning. Roger's face wrinkled with worry and his hands shook. Collins patted his back and tossed his bag into the waiting cab.

"I'll be back in a week, man. You'll be fine, okay?" Roger nodded. "You call me if you need anything. Even if it's just to talk."

"Thanks, Thomas."

Collins laughed. Roger was the only one who ever called him Thomas. And the only one who wouldn't get his ass kicked for it. Collins hugged him and promised to return soon. Maureen and Mark said a quick goodbye to him and the trio headed back up to the loft. Roger went straight to the kitchen and poured a mug of coffee.

"You guys want?"

"I'll take a cup," Mark said. Maureen shook her head.

They sat at the card table that served as their dining room, no one quite sure what to say. Maureen rubbed her temples lightly.

"You okay, baby?" Mark asked.

"Huh?"

"You're rubbing your head. Got a headache?"

"Yeah."

"Here, let me get you something."

Mark returned with a couple Tylenols and a glass of water. Maureen smiled, taking them quickly.

"You want me to make you something to eat?" Mark asked.

"No, no. I'm fine."

"You sure? I mean, we didn't have time to eat breakfast this morning and it's past noon…maybe your head would feel better if you ate something."

"No, I'm fine, pookie. Really. It's just a headache. I'm fine."

"Okay. You want to go lie down?"

"Maybe just on the couch for a little bit," she said.

Mark helped her to her feet and led her to the couch. In minutes, she was asleep. He went back to Roger at the table and sighed.

"Thanks," Roger said.

"For…."

"This. Everything."

"Best friends."

"Brothers forever."

Mark nodded. "You still have to tell them though."

"I will, I will. I just….I need some time, you know?"

He nodded again. "You get the prescriptions?"

"In my pocket. We can't afford—"

"Give 'em to me."

"Mark, you can't afford it either."

"I'll find a way."

"Mark—"

"Roger, let me take care of it. You need this stuff, okay?"

Roger hesitated but nodded and pulled a slip of paper from his wallet. He handed it over and Mark read the doctor's scrawled handwriting.

"Zido-what?"

"I dunno how you say it. AZT. That's the common name for it."

"AZT. Okay. Did they give you any papers about it or anything?"

Roger nodded. "It's in my room."

"Mind if I look through 'em?"

"Sure, I'll go get 'em," Roger said. He left the table only to return a minute later with a thick stack.

Mark took the stack of papers and pamphlets. The titles alone were enough to terrify anyone with half a brain. _Dealing with AIDS. HIV: The Facts. AIDS/HIV: What You Need to Know. Diagnosed: HIV/AIDS. The Truth about AIDS. _Mark couldn't help but shutter.

"Fun stuff, huh?"

Mark looked up. "Sorry…just…these titles. It's like they try to scare the hell out of you."

"Or the AIDS," Roger said with a small grin.

"You really gonna make jokes about this?"

Roger shrugged. "Don't see why not. Just a virus."

"Roger, it's not 'just a virus.' This is something you're going to have forever."

"No shit, Cohen. Just like you have allergies forever."

"Rog, no. This isn't the same. Do you know what HIV is? Did the doctor explain it to you?"

"He explained enough."

"Meaning what?"

"Meaning I know that I'm gonna die and there's nothing the doctors or anybody else can do about it."

Mark bit his lip, trying to find something to say. Roger was right: he was going to die. Nothing Mark said or did, nothing anyone said or did, would change that. Just a matter of time. Roger scowled, glaring at the window.

"Part of me hates her," he whispered.

"What? Who?"

"April," he said, not turning to look at Mark.

"Part of you hates her?"

"Crazy, huh? Love of my life and part of me hates her. Part of me wishes I'd never met her. Part of me wishes she was still alive just so I could scream at her and shake her and tell her she ruined my life."

Mark frowned, not understanding. "Ruined your life?"

"Don't you get it? She did this to me."

"You mean the drugs?"

"All of it….the drugs, the HIV…I'm going to die because I loved her. I'm going to die because she had it and she didn't tell me. I-I….God, Mark….I'm so pissed…."

Mark felt anger rising in his own heart. "How do you know she had it?"

"The note said 'we' have AIDS. Not me alone, not her alone, 'we.' I…when the band was touring and people were contracting it left and right, we all got tested. I was negative. I'd never touched a needle before her and I didn't sleep around. She's the only woman I've ever been with that I didn't use a condom."

"Roger, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" Maureen asked.

The men exchanged a fearful glance. How much had she heard? Before Mark could answer her, Maureen had crossed the room to them and perched in his lap.

"Oh, for, uh…" Mark stuttered, trying to come up with an answer.

"For eating the last of the Captain Crunch," Roger said.

"Yeah…I didn't mean to."

Maureen laughed. "Well, I'll pick up more later. You guys okay?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Why?" Roger asked.

"Because you're both all fidgety and jumpy."

"Mark's always fidgety and jumpy."

Mark flipped him off, laughing.

"Yeah but you're not. You okay, Rog?"

He nodded, forcing a smile. "Just a little wired from the coffee."

Maureen studied his face a minute. "You know I can tell when you're lying, Davis."

"I know."

She frowned and stood up. Grabbing her coat and purse, she gave a small smile. "I'm going to the store. Need anything besides Captain Crunch?"

"Maybe some milk?" Mark suggested.

"Okay."

Maureen turned and left before either could offer to go with her.


	15. From This Nightmare

Roger's scream jolted Mark out of sleep. Maureen's eyes flew open. Mark waved at her to stay put.

"I'll go check on him. Go back to sleep," he said with a yawn.

Maureen nodded and smiled as Mark leaned down to kiss her forehead. Mark slid out of bed and crossed to the other bedroom, shivering. He knocked on Roger's door but got no reply. Opening the door, Mark saw Roger's empty bed. He went back to his own room to grab his glasses and a sweatshirt.

Back in Roger's room, Mark flipped the light on. No Roger. Mark tried not to panic. He turned to the living room, hoping to find Roger there. No luck. Mark knew he hadn't left. There had been no sound of doors shutting and stealth had never been one of Roger's talents. Mark frowned, and checked the fire escape.

He heard a small noise that sounded something like crying. "Roger?" he whispered into the darkened apartment.

There was no answer. Mark tried to follow the faint cries. He found Roger in the bathroom, crouching in the corner. Roger sat on the ground, hugging his knees to his chest, crying softly and trembling.

"Roger?" Mark moved slowly towards his friend. "Rog, what's wrong?"

"I forgot….I-I forgot…I…I wanted…I woke up. The-then April wasn't here so…"

"Shh, calm down, man. Deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths," Mark said.

He sat beside Roger, an arm around his back. A few minutes of silence passed before Roger could speak.

"I woke up and didn't remember where I was. I—I thought I was at April's. I got up to see why she wasn't in bed and-and…she…I came in here…I just—I thought she was here. I….there was so much blood, Mark. There was so much blood. And I couldn't do anything. I-I couldn't do anything."

Roger's voice was slightly more than a whisper. He sounded like a little kid, a scared little kid. Mark wished he could do something. They sat on the bathroom floor, Roger shaking and crying, Mark patting his back and holding his hand. When Roger calmed, Mark spoke again.

"You okay?"

Roger nodded slowly, not looking at him.

"You sure?"

Roger nodded again and stood up. Mark followed him into the kitchen and flipped on the coffeemaker. The first rays of sunlight streamed into the loft. Maureen would be up soon. She'd always been a morning person, unlike Mark and Roger. Roger leaned his head on the card table. Mark set a mug of coffee in front of him and sat down across from Roger.

"Thanks, man," Roger said.

He stared at the coffee, not drinking it. Mark watched him and frowned. "You tell Mo yet?"

"Not yet. I will though. Soon."

Maureen flipped the shower on but didn't get in right away. She knelt down on the floor and, quietly as she could, threw up. After, she wiped her mouth and climbed into the shower. She didn't want to be like this. It was the only thing she knew could help her keep control. Flipping off the water, Maureen stepped out of the shower and brushed her teeth right away. She brushed her teeth like crazy lately, four or five times a day some days.

"Mo? You okay?" Mark called.

Shit. How long had she been in there?

"Fine, Pookie. I'll be right out!"

Maureen shut the bathroom door and dressed quickly. Roger was on the fire escape when she got out. Mark stood at the kitchen counter. Roger's guitar sat abandoned in the corner, as it had been since April's death. Maureen sighed and went out to him, sitting beside him. Their feet dangled over the side.

"You okay, babe?"

"Huh?"

"I asked if you're okay."

Roger shrugged. "Oh, yeah. I'm fine."

He jumped up and offered a hand to her.

"You sure?"

"Positive. You?"

"I'm okay."

"You want breakfast?"

"Breakfast?"

Roger smiled. "Breakfast, the morning meal? I saw some eggs in the fridge. I could make an omelet or something."

Maureen hesitated and bit her lip. "You? Make an omelet?"

Roger laughed. "Sure. I'm not completely helpless."

She forced a smile, trying to mentally calculate the calories in an omelet. "Sounds good then."

Roger headed to the kitchen. "You want toast too?"

"Sure. Want some help?"

"Nah, I got it."

Maureen sat at the couch and picked up an old magazine from the coffee table. She was flipping through it when she heard Roger yell.

"Fuck!"

"Rog? You okay?"

"Son of a bitch! Fuck!"

"Roger?"

"I'm fine, Mo!"

She went to the kitchen, not believing him for a second. Roger stood over the counter, hand wrapped in a towel that was quickly turning red. Mark backed away, watching Roger. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from side to side.

"Roger! Oh my God! What'd you do?"

"I was cutting the toast and I slipped. I'm fine."

"Roger, you're not fine. You're bleeding!"

He kept his back to Maureen, holding the towel tightly to his palm. "I'm fine, Mo."

"Let me see."

"No."

She took a step towards him. "Roger, quit being so stubborn and let me see it."

"No! Don't!"

"Roger, wha—"

Maureen stepped up and Roger backed away, holding his injured hand to his chest. "No! Don't touch me!"

"Roger! Seriously, you're being an ass!"

"You can't—Just leave me alone!" He looked pleadingly to Mark, who stared at the floor.

"Roger Davis, I'm not going anywhere until you let me see it! What if you need stitches?"

"I don't need stitches! I'm fine! I'm fine!"

"Why won't you let me—"

"Because I can't let you get sick too!"

Maureen's jaw fell open. She turned her head from him to Mark and back. "Roger, what are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Just forget it."

"Mark? Marky, what the hell is he talking about?"

Roger knocked past her and went to the bathroom. He rummaged through the cabinet for a band-aid. It really wasn't a bad cut. Little deep, which was why it bled so much. Roger sighed, rinsing his hand in the water. He winced, but managed to clean it up and put a band-aid over it. It had stopped bleeding during his argument with Maureen.

She sat dumbfounded on the couch when Roger emerged from the bathroom. He swallowed hard and forced himself to cross the room to sit in the rocking chair. Maureen ran a hand through her hair, fidgeting in her seat. Mark stood at the counter. He still hadn't moved.

"What's going on, Davis?" she asked quietly.

"I have to tell you something."

"Okay. Shoot."

Roger hesitated and got up from the rocking chair. He paced a minute, trying to compose his thoughts. Maureen had been his best friend for more than ten years. What if she walked out? He couldn't think about it. Better to just spill it.

"Rog, you're freaking me out. Whatever it is, just say it."

Roger sat beside her and rested his elbows on his knees, staring at the coffee table. He took a deep breath and turned to face her.

"Okay, um….I just gotta spill this, okay? No interrupting till I finish. Okay?"

Maureen nodded, frowning.

"April….she left a note. I found it before…before you found me. It said, um, it said that we have AIDS. And I didn't want to believe it so I didn't tell you guys. But, um…at the hospital, the doctors…I had the doctors run a test. I-I wanted…I just…I didn't think she'd…the….shit….they did the test…um…I tested—I tested positive for the HIV virus."

Maureen jumped to her feet, her eyes flying from Roger to Mark and back. "Roger, that's not funny!"

His eyes filled with tears. "Mo, I wish to God I was kidding….but I'm not."

"No! You don't have it! You don't! There was a mix-up at the lab. There had to have been a mix-up. You don't have it! You're healthy and you're straight and you're young and you-you don't share needles and—and it's a mix-up. It…Mark, tell him! Tell him he's wrong! You don't have it!"

Roger waited for her to stop for a breath. "Mo, I've got it….I didn't share needles. April did. She…she shared needles before she met me."

"But people…people who get that…." Maureen broke off, tears spilling across her cheeks. "You can't die, Roger! You can't!"

Mark finally moved from the counter and turned Maureen to him. She collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Roger sat on the couch alone, silent tears running down his cheeks.


	16. With His Camera, Alone

Maureen cried into Mark's shoulder, then backed away from him and moved to Roger. Her eyes still flowed with tears as she pulled Roger into her arms and cried on his shoulder. Mark saw Roger's shoulders shaking and knew he was crying too. This was the first time Mark felt no desire to capture a memory on film.

He sat on the couch beside Maureen and stroked her hair. After what seemed like forever, he saw Roger's shoulders stop moving. Maureen stopped as well. Mark left his hand on her back and could feel her breathing steady. He gently pulled Maureen back. As he'd suspected, she'd cried herself to the point of exhaustion. Ever since they were kids, she'd done that. When Maureen cried, she cried herself to sleep.

Roger's eyes were heavy and threatened to drop shut. Mark picked up Maureen and carried her to the bedroom. She stirred and started to protest.

"Mark, I…."

"Shh….it's okay, Maureen. Just sleep a few hours, okay? Roger's sleeping too."

At that, Maureen gave a small nod and let Mark lay her down on their bed. He wiped her drying tears and kissed her forehead.

"I love you," he whispered.

Roger fought off sleep. Mark found him struggling to stay awake in the living room. "Rog, come on. You need some sleep."

"No, I don't. It's like ten in the morning."

"Yeah and I just put Maureen back to bed too. It's fine. You're both exhausted and so am I. Let's just go back to bed for a few hours. I'm sure everyone will feel better once we're not so tired."

Roger nodded, but didn't move.

"You going to get up?"

Roger shook his head and stretched out on the couch. "Can't I just sleep here?"

Mark looked down at him. Roger was asleep before Mark could even answer. The filmmaker studied him a minute. He grabbed the camera from the shelf and silently wound it up. Mark filmed Roger sleeping for a few minutes. He'd add narration later.

He debated about going back to bed, but couldn't. Instead, Mark grabbed the notebook they kept by the phone and scribbled out a note.

_Roger, Mo—_

_Went to do some filming in the park. Back soon._

_Love you both_

_M_

Before the park, Mark stopped at the cemetery. It felt strange to be in a cemetery alone with a video camera, but he had to do this. For himself, sure, but also for Roger. And for April.

He stopped in front of the grave and began filming a close-up on the headstone. "April Ericsson. Born the 10th of February 1967. Died the 7th of October 1988. April was Roger's girlfriend. She…she found out she had AIDS and slit her wrists in the bathroom."

He stopped filming and walked away from the grave.


	17. Before April, There Was Maureen

Roger could feel someone watching him even before he opened his eyes. Maureen sat in the rocking chair, her legs folded beneath her. She smiled when he opened his eyes.

"What?"

"Nothing," she said.

Roger sat up, yawning. "Time is it?"

"Dunno. Noon-ish, I think. Mark went out filming."

"Mmm…What?"

"Nothing," she said, continuing to stare.

"Mo, why the hell are you staring at me like that?"

"No reason."

"Mo—"

She stood up from the rocking chair and went to his side. "How come you didn't tell me?"

"What?"

"When you found out about the HIV. When you found the note. Pick one. Why didn't you tell me?"

Roger sighed. "Maureen…It's complicated."

"Un-complicate it then."

"I-I don't know…It's just…we've been best friends since high school."

"Exactly."

"So, this is pretty heavy. I mean, it's…it's a death sentence. And, um, the-they don't really know a lot about it yet and a lot of people, um…a-a lot of people would…."

"You were afraid I'd ditch you?"

Roger nodded. Maureen's head fell to his shoulder.

"Davis, I've told you time and again, you're stuck with me. I don't care how much they know about it. We'll learn together. Read whatever shit we find about it."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It can be like…like a study party!"

Roger laughed. "A study party?"

"Yeah! Remember Mr. Gorrin's history class? We used to have study parties for that all the time!"

"Yeah, I remember…" Roger's face fell. "That, um, that was when….when we were together…"

"Yeah, so?"

Maureen read his expression and bit her lip. She shook her head. "Rog, that was before you met April…"

"I was using though."

"What?"

"Only once or twice. You knew about it, remember? Tommy Beecher's house?"

Maureen nodded slowly. She'd completely forgotten about that. When he'd told her, Maureen stopped talking to him for three weeks until he swore never to touch drugs again.

"Tommy and I…we shared the needle…I—there's no way for them to know when I got it, or how, or who from…"

Maureen couldn't look at him.

"So, um….God, Maureen….I-I don't know what to do…if-if you have it…"

"Roger, I'm sure I'm fine."

"Will you get a test, please?"

She hesitated, but nodded. "I'll go when Mark gets back."

"Go where when Mark gets back?" Mark asked, sliding the door to the loft shut behind him.

"Get tested."

"Maureen, it's only passed through bodily fluids."

"I know."

"You've never done drugs."

"I know, but Roger and I….in high school…"

"Yeah, but he got it from April."

"Probably. He probably got it from April. There's a chance that he got it from this other guy we knew. This guy he shot up with a few times."

Mark's eyes widened. "And after that…"

"Mark, I'm so sorry," Roger whispered.

Mark shook his head. "Don't apologize. It's okay. She hasn't even been tested yet. I'm sure she's fine. She's okay."

Maureen stood up and picked up her purse. Mark gave her a quick kiss.

"I'm going to go do it now. Get it over with."

"You want us to come with you?"

Maureen shook her head. "No, no. I think I need to do this alone. Besides, it's just the test. They don't get the results back right away."

Maureen hurried down the block to the free clinic. She tried to stay calm, but felt her heart racing. It'd been five years since she'd been with Roger, but he was right. If he'd gotten HIV from Tommy, she might….No, she wasn't going to think about it. Not until the results were back. For now, it was a blood test. Just a blood test.

She'd never regretted sleeping with Roger. He was a good lover, even if their relationship had only lasted another couple of months after their first sexual encounter. Now she might've ended up with….No. It wasn't that. She was fine. Never been healthier. He didn't get it from Tommy. He didn't. Maureen wished she still had his number. It'd be easier, she thought, to call him and make sure he was alive than to do this.

At the clinic, a young woman sat in the waiting room, calmly flipping through a magazine. Maureen marveled at the woman's confidence and calm attitude. Clearly she wasn't here for the same reason Maureen was. She leaned over the counter, not wanting the woman to hear.

"I, um…I need to get a test."

"Okay. A test for what?"

Maureen stared at her.

"Pregnancy?"

"HIV," she mumbled.

The blonde nodded and handed a clipboard across the counter. "Just bring this back up when you're finished."

Maureen nodded and sat down in the corner of the waiting room, hoping she wasn't drawing suspicion. She glanced down at the information sheet and began scrawling out her answers.

_Name: Maureen Johnson_

_Age: 23_

_Date of Birth: October 3, 1965._

_Are you pregnant? No_

_Are you sexually active? Yes_

_Are you currently using birth control? Condoms most of the time_

_Have you ever had an HIV test done before? No_

_Has your partner had an HIV test? Not that I know of_

_Does your partner have HIV or AIDS? Not that I know of_

Maureen finished filling out the questionnaire and handed it back to the receptionist. A minute later, a nurse appeared in the doorway.

"Stephanie Ellis?"

The other woman stood up. She nodded politely to Maureen and followed the nurse from the room. Maureen sat fidgeting in her chair for another five minutes before the nurse returned.

"Maureen Johnson?"

"Yeah, yeah that's me."

She stood slowly, not quite believing she was here. The nurse led her to a small examination room and gestured for Maureen to sit at the table. She hopped up on the table, hating the sound of the crinkling paper beneath her.

"Okay, the doctor will be here in a minute," the nurse said.

Maureen nodded. Sure enough, the doctor appeared within minutes. Maureen said a silent prayer of thanks. Usually doctors, especially those in free clinics, took forever to get to a patient.

"Hello, Ms. Johnson?"

"Yes."

The doctor extended his hand to shake hers. "I'm Dr. Jacobs. I'll be treating you today. Seems you're here for….an HIV test."

"Yeah. Um…my-my friend, he, um, he was just diagnosed a couple days ago."

"I see. And do you engage in sexual relations with this friend?"

"No but I did. It was years ago but, um, he-he'd used drugs before and shared the needle with another guy so, um, he-he's not sure where or when…He thought it'd be best if-if I just come and, um, you know…"

"Ms. Johnson, please, relax. Now, I have to ask you a few routine questions. All answers are completely confidential. All right?"

Maureen sighed. "Okay."

"Do you now or have you ever used intravenous drugs?"

"No."

"Do you now or have you ever had unprotected sexual intercourse?"

"Yes."

"Okay….are you sexually active?"

"Yes."

"And do you and your partner use birth every time, but most of the time."

The doctor nodded and Maureen blushed.

"And how many sexual partners have you had?"

"Ever?"

"Yes."

"Three."

"Okay. In the last year?"

"One."

"And have you had any other symptoms? Any coughs or sore throats?"

"No."

"No fevers or lesions?"

"No."

"All right. Well, I'll send my nurse in to take your blood. The results should be back in about two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"I'm sorry. I know it's a long wait, but it's the fastest we can do it. Someone will call you the instant the results are back, though."

"Thank you."

"In the meantime, use condoms every single time. No intravenous drug use."

She nodded. "Yes, doctor."


	18. How We Gonna Pay?

Mark dialed the number slowly.

"Hello?" a warm, though high-pitched voice said.

"Hi, Mom."

"Mark! Oh, it's so nice to hear from you! How are you? Are you doing okay? Did you finish a film yet? When are you coming home? Do you want to come visit this weekend?"

"Mom, Mom, slow down. I'm okay. Still working on the film and not sure when I'll be home. How are you?"

"Good. I'm doing good. Your father's good. Cindy's good. The kids are getting so big, Marky! You wouldn't believe it! Oh, but I'm rambling. What have you been up to?"

"Oh, not much. Just filming."

"How's Maureen?"

"She's…she's good."

"Oh, good. And how's Roger? Is he still with that girl? Amy?"

"April, Mom. Her name was April."

"Was?"

"She, uh, she passed away," he said, hoping she wouldn't ask for details.

"How's Roger? Is he okay?"

"He's okay. Upset, but okay."

"Well naturally. You poor kids….is there anything at all I can do for you?"

"Actually, that's sort of why I was calling. April didn't have any family so we had to pay for the burial and now, um, now we don't have the money for the rent."

"How much is it?"

Mark hated lying to his mother. "Four hundred."

"Well then it's a good thing your father's a lawyer. I'll wire the money this afternoon. Is four hundred enough? Do you need money for food or anything?"

"No, that's fine. And thanks, Mom, we all really appreciate it so much."

"Oh, think nothing of it. It's no trouble at all."

"Thanks."

"Well, honey, I have to be going. I told Mrs. Himmelfarb that I'd meet her for lunch. You remember Nanette, don't you?"

"Oh yeah. How's Nanette doing these days?"

"Terrific! She just got married and they just found out she's expecting!"

"Well, congratulate her and Mrs. Himmelfarb for me, will you?"

"Oh of course. But I really do have to get going. I'll send the money after lunch."

"All right. And thanks again, Mom."

"You're very welcome. I love you, Marky."

"Love you too, Mom."

_Click._

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Never had Mark successfully lied to his mother. First time for everything, he thought. Under normal circumstances, Mark would've crumbled under the guilt and told her why he really wanted the money. Roger needed that medicine. Still, his mother might not lend him the money for that. Mark had overheard her once say that people who contracted the virus deserved it, that it was their own fault for being sinful. She didn't know Collins had AIDS. That was the last time Mark visited.


	19. Not the Last

Collins knew about Roger's HIV. Roger told him the night Maureen found out.

"_HIV. Probably from April, but maybe from…maybe from someone else. There's no way to know for sure where I got it or how long I've had it."_

_Collins sat back and sighed. For one god-awful minute, Roger thought Collins would walk out. "You get your AZT?"_

"_Huh?"_

"_AZT. That's the standard treatment. Keeps me feeling pretty damn good.."_

"_He starts it tomorrow when I pick it up from the pharmacy," Mark said._

_Collins nodded and leaned forward to pat Roger's knee. "You'll be fine, boy. Don't worry so much."_

Three weeks later, Maureen was on pins and needles waiting for the phone call. Roger avoided her like the plague, guilt washing over his face every time he looked at her. She was his first love. If he was responsible….if she had it…It drove Roger nuts just thinking about the chance.

The phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hello. I need to speak with a Maureen Johnson, please."

"Yeah, yes, this is she."

"Ms. Johnson, this is the free clinic. Your test results are in. The doctor would like you to come in and discuss some matters with him."

Maureen mumbled that she'd be there in a half hour and hung up. Her stomach tangled in knots and she ran to the bathroom. Collins had driven Roger to a doctor's appointment and Mark was out filming. For the first time all morning, she was glad she was alone. She didn't bother trying to drown out the sounds as she threw up the small breakfast Mark had made her.

She left a note on the counter and headed for the clinic.

_Boys,_

_Be back soon. Don't worry_

_M_

At the clinic entrance, Maureen paused and took a deep breath. She went to the counter and saw the same woman who'd been working there when she came in for the test.

"Hi, um…you guys called me about my test results. The doctor wants to see me?"

"And your name?"

"Maureen Johnson."

The woman shuffled through a few files and smiled. "Okay, Ms. Johnson. If you'll just have a seat, the doctor will be right with you."

The doctor appeared before Maureen had time to get nervous. He smiled at her and she tried to gauge the smile. Was this an I'm-sorry-you're-going-to-die smile? Maybe it was a glad-you're-not-going-to-die smile.

"Good afternoon."

"Hi."

"Okay, it seems you came in for an HIV-test?"

"Yeah. My, um, my ex-boyfriend found out that he has it and we haven't been together for, like, ten years but he's not sure when he got it and so I came to get tested and I--"

"Ms. Johnson, calm down. Your test came back negative."

"I did?"

"Yes. You're perfectly healthy."

"I am?"

"Yes," he said with a chuckle.

Maureen jumped up and threw her arms around him. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

"Glad I could help. Now, if this old boyfriend has been diagnosed, I would recommend getting tested every six months, just to be safe. The medical community isn't certain yet exactly how long the virus can lay dormant. Other than that, no sex without a condom, no intravenous drug use."

Maureen nodded and waited for the doctor to excuse her. She ran the whole way back to the loft.

Bursting into the loft, Maureen threw her arms around Mark, nearly knocking his camera to the ground. "Negative!"

Mark spun her around and kissed her. "Negative? You're sure?"

"I have to get tested in six months to make sure but the test came back negative!"

Roger was coming in from the fire escape and didn't hear her news. "What's going on?"

"My test results came back. I'm negative!"

Roger smiled, blinking back tears. He hugged her tightly and excused himself to his room. Shutting the door behind him, Roger lay on his bed and said a silent prayer. _Thank you. Thank you for not…thank you for letting her be healthy, for letting that test be negative. _


	20. The Man

It had been four days since Maureen's results had come in. In that four days, Roger's relief at her health had morphed to a self-pitying despair. He waited until he knew Mark and Maureen were both sleeping before slipping out of his room. Roger carried his shoes and jacket out of the loft and sat on the stairs to slip the shoes on.

The Man was right where Roger expected him to be. Dark alley as always. A young dark-haired girl strutted away from the man, the unmistakable look on her face. The look Roger knew well. A freshly purchased stash in her pocket just waiting to make her feel all better.

"Hey, buddy boy. Look who's back."

"Shut the hell up. Just give it to me."

"How much you got?"

"Fifty bucks."

The Man produced a small baggie and took Roger's money. Roger slipped the baggie carefully into his pocket and left. Halfway back to the loft, he stopped in and alleyway and snorted half the bag before staggering back up to the loft. Roger forced himself to stay awake long enough to hide the rest of his stash and crawl back into bed.

In the morning, Maureen knocked on Roger's door. "Rog? Roger, I made breakfast. Get up, sleepyhead."

Roger's eyes opened slowly. He yawned and stretched. God, it was a good morning. He fished his stash out of his drawer and snorted a little more. His arms itched with the urge to shoot up but he couldn't risk Mark and Maureen finding the needles. A few minutes later, he stumbled into the kitchen, smiling.

"Hey, Roger. You feeling okay?"

"Feel great, Marky," he said as he took a seat at the table.

"Marky?" Mark mouthed to Maureen. She shrugged.

"You want eggs or French toast?"

"Mmm….whichever."

"Are you sure you feel okay? You're, like, the pickiest eater ever normally."

"Yeah but I like both of 'em so whichever one is fine."

Mark studied Roger's face. After finishing his eggs, Mark announced that he was going out for the day, filming for his newest film. Maureen kissed him goodbye and got ready for her shift at the café.

"Got any plans today?" she asked Roger.

"Uh….job interview later on. Bartending."

"Well good luck, babe. I'm sure you'll do great," she said as she left.

Roger held his smile until the loft door slid shut behind her. Damn, he needed more. Dashing back to his room, Roger snorted the rest of the stash.

"Money," he mumbled to himself, "I need money."

He dug through every possible place his money should've been. Damn. Roger's eyes flicked around the room. He had to have something he could sell. His gaze settled on the watch April had given him for Christmas. Roger's eyes filled with tears at her memory. April. She was the reason he was like this. She was the one…Roger snatched it off the dresser and stormed out of the loft.

Maureen's shift ended just after the lunchtime rush. She sighed and headed back home. Benny was standing at the payphone across the street from the loft. He put the phone down when he saw her and gave a small wave.

"Benny!"

"Hey!"

"What are you doing here?" she asked, leading the way upstairs.

"Just thought I'd come by on my lunch break and say hi to everyone."

"Late lunch."

"Yeah, well, that's business for ya."

"It's what you get for working for your girlfriend's father," she teased.

Benny laughed and waited for her to open the loft door. "I tried calling when I got here, but no one answered. The guys out or just ignoring me?"

"Well Mark's out filming. I thought Roger was supposed to be home—oh wait! No, Roger's got a job interview. That's probably where he is."

Benny nodded.

"So what did you want for lunch? We don't have much—"

"As usual," he laughed.

"Captain Crunch or peanut-butter sandwich?"

"Sandwich. You want some help?"

"Nah, I got it."


	21. No Shame

Roger stumbled into the loft. He stopped when he saw Benny and Maureen.

"Roger, you okay?"

"Yeah, just, uh, not feeling so hot," he mumbled.

"How'd the interview go?" Benny asked.

"What?"

"You said this morning that you had a job interview. Isn't that where you were?" Maureen asked.

"Oh, yeah…Um, position's filled."

Roger stalked into his room before they could question him further and shut the door behind him. Maureen frowned.

"Wonder if I should bring him some aspirin or something."

"I'm sure he's fine. He, um, he been okay since you guys got him home?"

"Yeah, for the most part. I mean he argued with the guys a few times and stuff but it's okay."

Benny nodded and took the sandwich Maureen offered him. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Maureen made herself a sandwich and joined Benny at the table. "So how's Allison?"

"Um, okay, I guess."

"That's convincing."

Benny rolled his eyes. "She's fine. Just…she's just a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah, well, you're the one who decided it would be so great to live together."

Benny gave a small smile. "You love reminding me of that, don't you?"

"Always," she said with a laugh.

Benny checked his watch and jumped up. "Shit. I'm late."

"You've been here, like, ten minutes."

"Yeah and it takes fifteen to get here," he said, dumping his plate in the kitchen. "Thanks for the sandwich, girl. Tell the guys I said hi."

"Okay. Bye, B."

After Benny had left, Maureen finished her own sandwich and started cleaning up the kitchen. If she didn't, nobody would. At least not till things started growing on the dirty plates. She sighed and realized she hadn't heard a sound from Roger. Maureen poured a glass of water from the tap and grabbed a couple of aspirin from the cabinet. She knocked on Roger's door.

"What?"

"It's just me, Rog. I wanted to check on you and make sure you're okay."

"I'm fine."

"I've got some aspirin. Might make you feel better."

She thought about opening the door but Roger yanked it open first. "I said I'm fine."

"Okay, sorry. Forget I mentioned it. Just take your AZT."

Roger saw the flush of embarrassment creeping up her cheeks. "Sorry, Mo. I just, I'm fine. Just…the interview didn't go so well."

"You said the position's filled."

"Hence a bad interview," he said.

She gave a sympathetic smile. "It's okay. You'll find something. You sure about the aspirin?"

"I'm sure."

"Well, um, you want something to eat or anything?"

"Nope. Fine. Just fine."

Maureen opened her mouth to say more, but Roger retreated back into the room and shut the door again. She frowned and brought the water and aspirin back to the kitchen. Sighing, Maureen went to the window sill. It was her favorite seat in the loft. She curled one leg under herself and leaned her head against the cool window.

Mark found her sitting there an hour later. "Hey, Maureen."

"Hey, baby."

He kissed her forehead and glanced around the loft. "Where's Roger?"

"Room. He's been in there all afternoon."

Mark frowned. "All afternoon?"

"Yeah. Well, I mean, he went to some job interview while I was at work so I got home first but yeah, he's been in there since he got home."

"Job interview?"

"Yeah but he said that the position was filled."

The door to Roger's room opened loudly. She wondered if he'd heard them.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Nothin' much. I was just going to see, actually, if you guys wanted to go for dinner at the Life."

"That sounds great!" Maureen said, clapping her hands together.

"Sorry, Marky. No can do."

"And why not?"

"Because I, um, I'm broke."

"My treat, then," Maureen said. "Got paid this afternoon anyway. Just let me freshen up a bit, okay, Pookie?"

"Okay."

"You in, Roger?"

He hesitated but nodded. "Sure."

Mark groaned when he heard the shower start. "Great, hope you're not starving."

"What, you mean just 'cause she takes three hours to get ready?"

Mark laughed, glad to see Roger in such good spirits. He tried to push any suspicions from his mind.

"Hey, you know, you were talking before about needing some sunset shots for that film of yours."

"Yeah, well, Mo's not ready yet—"

"Well, why don't you go shoot on the roof? I can wait for her. I wanted to jot down some lyrics anyway."

Mark stood and went for his camera. "You don't mind?"

"Not at all."

When Mark had gone, Roger listened carefully for the shower. Still going. He slipped into Maureen and Mark's bedroom. Rummaging through her purse, it took him only a minute to count out a handful of bills. Not all of it. Just enough for a quick hit. He'd pay her back before she noticed it was gone. Roger jammed the money into his jeans pocket as the shower stopped.


	22. To Loving Tension

Roger went to the bathroom and knocked on the door.

"Yeah?"

"Hey, I'm goin' up to the roof with Mark to film the sunset. Come up when you're ready, okay?"

"Okay, I just gotta dry my hair."

Roger picked up his jacket and bolted down the stairs. He only had a few minutes, but that was all he needed. The Man waited in the familiar alleyway. They made a quick exchange and parted ways again. Roger wished he had a needle but knew he didn't have time to shoot up. He needed to make this quick.

Back at the loft, Maureen emerged from the bathroom and went to grab her purse from the bed. Wait—the bed? Hadn't she left it on the nightstand?

"Swear I must be losing my mind," Maureen mumbled to herself. She could've sworn, too, that she'd zipped it shut.

She grabbed her jacket and went up to the roof. Mark was filming the sunset, as Roger had told her, but seemed alone.

"Where's Roger?" she asked.

"Huh? He's supposed to be downstairs with you."

"No, he told me that he was coming with you to film."

Mark sighed. "Son of a bitch…"

Maureen followed him down the stairs. She wanted to reassure him, but a growing knot in her stomach told her Mark's suspicions were right.

They didn't bother checking the loft. As they stormed down the stairs, Mark stopped on the landing.

"Did you cash your paycheck?"

"Yeah, of course. Why?"

"Check it."

"What?"

"Check and make sure it's there," Mark said, hating the bitter tone his voice had taken.

Maureen pursed her lips together, but searched her purse. She pulled out a wad of cash. Mark watched her count it once, then a second time, and a third.

"That's impossible. That's impossible," she mumbled.

"What? What is it? Is it all there?"

Maureen shook her head. "I'm short almost a hundred dollars."

Mark ignored the anger rising in his stomach. He raced down the stairs with Maureen trailing behind him. They found him in the alleyway beside the building. He lay on the pavement, bruised and dazed, but conscious. His hand clutched something. Maureen knelt at his side.

"Roger? Baby, what happened?" she asked.

"N-nothing. Nothing, I'm fine."

"Where's the money?" Mark asked, staring down at him.

"What money?"

"The money from Maureen's purse."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bullshit. Where the fuck is it?"

"Pookie, maybe—"

"No, Maureen, we're dealing with this now. I want to know what the hell he did with it."

Roger groaned. "I didn't touch it."

"You think you can stand?"

Roger nodded and let her help him up. He still clutched something in his hand. Maureen shot Mark a warning glance and shook her head.

"Not now," she mouthed.

Mark tightened his jaw, using every ounce of restraint he had to listen to Maureen.

"Come on, let's get you home," he said.

Maureen helped Roger as best as she could, one arm around his waist. Mark led the way, not speaking to or looking at either of them. Maureen didn't ask what had happened and didn't care to guess. She knew any guess she made was probably right. The whole way to the loft, he kept his fist clenched into a tight ball.

When they were home again, Mark unwound his scarf and dropped it onto the couch with his camera. Roger sank into the rocking chair. Maureen doubled back to the door and locked it.

"Where is it?" Mark asked.

"Mo, would you please tell him—"

"I'm not asking her, Roger! I'm asking you. Now what did you do with the money?"

Roger glared at him. "Don't know what you're talking about."

"What's in your hand?"

"Nothing."

"Roger, show me what's in your hand. Now."

"Fuck off."

Roger started to stand up. Mark slammed him back down into the chair and forced his hand open. What he lacked in size, Mark made up for in sheer willpower and speed. Something fell from his hand and Mark stooped to pick it up. Roger's arms went around his, forcing Mark to the ground.

"Stop it! Roger! Mark! Both of you, stop it!"

"Give it back! It's mine!"

"Fuck off! You're not doing this! Not again!"

Maureen shouted at them to stop, knowing they wouldn't listen. Mark lay on the ground, shoving at Roger. She crossed the room to the phone and dialed Collins.

"Hey, Collins? It's Maureen."

"Hey, girl. What's up?"

"I-I think you need to come home."

"What's going on? Sounds like World War Three over there."

"Sort of is…there's—it's just…the money and he seemed fine and then…"

"Maureen, calm down. What happened?"

"I think Roger's using again."

"I'm on my way."

Maureen hung up and went back to her roommates, still wrestling on the floor.

"It's mine! Give it back!"

"No!"

"Damn it, Mark! Give it back!"

"You're not doing this!"

"Fuck off! It's my life!"

Mark slapped him across the face, hard. The sound alone brought tears to Maureen's eyes. Never had Mark raised his hands to Roger. The slap stunned Roger. He pulled back, anger flushing his cheek more than the red handprint.

"So that's what you wanna do?"

Mark slammed him to the ground, straddling his hips and pinning his shoulders down.

"You son of a bitch! Who the fuck do you think you are?" Roger screamed, struggling to free himself. He threw Mark from him and punched him in the jaw, knocking his glasses from his face.

"Stop it!" Maureen yelled.

She ran up behind Roger and grabbed his arm. "Knock it off! Both of you!"

"Let go of me, Mo!"

"No! You both need to knock it the hell off now!"

"Fuck off!" Roger yelled. He kept Mark pinned with one hand and shoved Maureen away with the other.

"Keep your fucking hands off her!" Mark shouted, punching his face.

The door to the loft slammed open.


	23. Enter Tom Collins

Collins had somehow managed to find a cab the instant he stepped onto the street.

"Christmas miracle," he muttered to himself.

He slipped the cabbie an extra twenty to speed. Four minutes later, they screeched to a stop in front of the loft. Collins shoved the fare at the driver and bounded up the stairs, glad that he still had a copy of the key.

Collins heard their shouts and screams before he even reached the loft. He could hear Mark and Roger screaming at each other, every now and then Maureen's voice was added to the noise. He threw open the door in time to see Roger get knocked backwards by Mark's fist.

Maureen sat on the ground, screaming at both of them. Collins jumped into the fray. He reached one hand out and yanked Roger to his feet. Mark jumped up on his own.

"Hey! Knock it off!"

Mark stood back, glaring at Roger. Collins kept his fist tightened around Roger's shirt while Mark picked up his glasses from the floor. The frames were bent slightly, but they were wearable. Maureen took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself.

"Let go of me!" Roger shouted.

Collins backed him up to the wall. "I don't know what the hell's goin' on but I ain't about to let you two beat the shit out of each other. Now quit shouting and calm the fuck down!"

Roger took a deep breath, swallowing. Collins stared at him a minute before letting go of him. Roger eyed the door. Collins leaned down closer to him, staring into his eyes.

"Don't so much as think about goin' for that door. Got it?"

Roger nodded. Collins took a step backwards, testing his friend. The musician stared at him, anger glittering in his emerald eyes, but didn't move. Collins turned and crossed back to the door of the loft. He locked it and slid the seldom used deadbolt into place.

"Now," he said, turning back to the trio. "Somebody care to tell me just what the hell is goin' on?"

"He took my—"

"Roger took Mo—"

"Uh-uh! Not you two. Maureen?"

"I'm not sure…" she said. Not looking at Mark or Roger, Maureen calmly repeated to him the events of the afternoon.

"Where's the bag?" Collins asked when she was finished. She pointed to an empty bag, crumpled and forgotten on the floor. Collins stooped and picked it up. He examined the bag and the white powdery residue within.

Roger sank to the ground. Collins turned to face him.

"Maureen, Mark, go in the other room for a minute," he said over his shoulder.

Mark opened his mouth to argue, but Maureen grabbed his arm and shook her head. She dragged him by the arm to the bedroom and shut the door.

"How long?" Collins asked.

"What?"

"Don't tell me this isn't what I think it is. You and I both know what it is. How long have you been using again?"

"Since last night."

"Last night?" Collins raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

Roger nodded. "Look, I just need a little bit. I know you don't want me doing it at all but—"

"No, Rog, there is no 'but' to this. You're not doin' this anymore."

"You don't understand," he said softly.

"I understand enough to know that this shit is killing you."

"I'm dying anyway!"

"So am I! And I don't go around using it as an excuse to fuck up," Collins said, kneeling in front of Roger.

"I can't do this."

"You were doing this, Rog. You were doing fine."

"I only need a little bit. I'll cut back, I promise."

"This isn't somethin' you can just 'cut back' on, Roger. You're quitting. Forever. It's done."

"Maybe I don't want to quit," Roger said, his voice a little louder than before.

Collins chuckled. "You hear me askin' if you wanted to?"

"It's my body."

"Yeah, it is. And I can promise you that if you so much as touch that shit again, I will use my body to kick the shit outta yours."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. And that's good. That's real good that you're sorry. But sorry don't change what you did. And it doesn't change what you're gonna do."

Roger's eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry. I-I'm so sorry. I…I can't do this. I can't. I—please, Collins…I can't…I don't want to be like this."

Collins sat beside him and hugged the younger man to him. "It's okay, Roger. You can do this. I'll help you and so will Mark and Maureen. You can do this. And it won't always be like this."


	24. You Okay, Honey?

Collins arranged for a grad student to teach his classes for the next few days. Roger's physical withdrawals weren't nearly as bad this time, but only because they'd intervened so soon. The psychological addiction stayed strong as ever. Collins locked him in his room the first night and sat guard outside.

Maureen waited until she heard Roger's door shut before opening Mark's door. She didn't say a word to Collins but tossed a handful of ice into a dishtowel and brought the makeshift icepack to Mark. Without a word, she shoved it at him and went out to the living room. Collins leaned his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"Collins?"

He opened his eyes. "Yeah?"

"Thanks," Maureen said with a small smile.

"No problem, baby girl."

* * *

In the morning, Collins opened the door for Roger and ordered him out. The musician lay on his stomach, pillow pulled over his head.

"Roger, I ain't got the time for your melodramatic bullshit. Get ya ass outta bed."

"Go away."

"No."

"Just leave me alone," his voice was muffled by the pillow.

"Roger—" Collins stopped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see Maureen standing beside him. She jerked her head towards the door and Collins sighed. Maureen crossed her arms and stared until Collins, shaking his head, stood and left.

She went to the side of the bed. "Roger."

"Go away, Mo."

"No can do."

"Yes can do. Get out."

"No."

Roger groaned and mumbled something into the pillow. Maureen sat down on the bed beside him, rubbing his back.

"Come on, honey. Let's get you some breakfast and rejoin the world of the living."

Roger sighed and rolled over. One eye was blackened and his lip was swollen. Maureen frowned.

"Looks that bad, huh?"

"We should put some ice on it," she said with a small nod.

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Do you forgive me?"

"Is it ever going to happen again?"

Roger shook his head. "No, never. I-I don't want to be like that. I don't want to do that. I don't…"

"Then I forgive you," she said with a shrug.

Roger stood up. "Is Mark still mad?"

"Not sure. He'll be fine though soon as he sees you."

Roger frowned.

Maureen laughed and gave him a quick hug. "Don't worry, he doesn't look much better."


	25. Can I Make It Up to You?

Mark gripped his coffee mug tighter when Roger came in. Collins put a hand on Mark's arm.

"Don't."

"Don't what? I didn't do anything."

"I know you, Mark. I know what you're thinking. Don't."

Mark rolled his eyes but didn't do or say anything to last out at Roger. Maureen took a cup of coffee for herself and another one for Roger.

"Thanks," he mumbled.

Maureen patted his back and went to Mark's side. She kissed his temple and took his hand. "You okay, pookie?"

"Fine."

"Mark?" Roger said quietly.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

Mark nodded. "Okay."

Collins shifted his gaze between them and then stood up. "Hey, Mo. I was just gonna go grab us some bagels from that deli on the corner. Come gimme a hand?"

"Give you a hand getting bagels?"

"Yes."

Maureen studied his face and realized what he wanted. "Oh. Yeah. Okay. I'll be right back, pookie."

She kissed Mark's head again and patted Roger's arm before skipping out of the loft behind Collins.

Maureen waited until they were on the street to talk to Collins. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Collins put a hand up for her to be quiet and stopped below the fire escape. He stood in silence a minute and then nodded, continuing on towards the deli.

"What the hell was that?"

"They'll be fine."

"How can you be sure?"

"Cause if they were at each other's throats again, there'd be a body flyin' over that fire escape or at least slidin' across it."

"Thanks, Col. Real reassuring."

Collins laughed as he opened the door to the deli. "Trust me, Maureen. They'll be fine. They need to talk it out and they're both too damn stubborn to talk about it in front of us."

In the loft, the Boho boys sat in awkward silence.

"Are you okay?" Roger asked.

"Fine."

Mark looked up to glare at Roger but saw the bruises on his face and winced.

"Are you okay?"

Roger nodded. "Think it looks worse than it feels. I'm really sorry, Mark."

"I know you are."

"Can you forgive me?"

Mark set down his coffee cup. "I can forgive you, Rog. But I'm not gonna forget what happened. And I'm not going to pretend things are fine."

"So you forgive me but you're still pissed?"

Mark didn't answer him.

"Fine. Whatever."

Mark sighed. "Look, I'm gonna go take a quick shower before they get back. You cool by yourself?"

"I'm not two, Mark. I know how to be alone."

Mark tightened his jaw and nodded. "Right. Forget I said anything."

Roger heard the shower start. Why the hell did he have to be so difficult? Roger was trying to apologize and Mark just wanted to treat him like some stupid kid and be pissed. He tried to steady the shaking in his hands.

"Fine, Mark, you wanna be pissed? I'll give you a reason to be pissed," he mumbled.

After scribbling out a hurried note, Roger grabbed his jacket and wallet and bolted down the stairs as he heard the shower stop.

Mark stepped from the shower and knew something was wrong. The loft was too quiet. No humming, no singing, not even the usual sounds of coffee cups being picked up and set down. Wrapping the towel around his waist, Mark tried to tell himself he was being paranoid. Still, he slipped his glasses back on and poked his head out.

"Rog? You okay?"

No answer.

"Look, I'm sorry I was being a prick. Would you just answer me?"

The silence started to worry him. His eyes flicked over the loft. No sign of him. Mark saw the open loft door and gasped.

"Son of a bitch," he muttered.

Mark went back to the kitchen where he'd left Roger. A piece of paper lay under one of the coffee mugs.

_Guys,_

_Went for some air. Be back_

_R_


	26. Where is He?

**Note: **_Thanks once again for so many positive reviews...I know Roger's being a jerk and an idiot, but I think this is the most realistic way to portray it. We know from the play and movie that Roger went through half a year of withdrawals so it couldn't be over so quickly without relapsing. Anyway, little warning--Roger's quite a jerk in the next couple chapters, but bear with me. We all know he won't stay like this._

* * *

Maureen and Collins found Mark staring at something on the table. Collins glanced around.

"Roger? Where'd you go?"

"He's not here," Mark mumbled.

"What?"

"He's not here."

"What do you mean 'he's not here'? What happened?" Maureen asked.

"He left."

"What the hell happened? We were gone, like, five minutes!"

"I don't know, Maureen. He apologized for last night and I accepted his apology but told him I wasn't over it yet."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because he asked. Anyway, I got in the shower after and when I came out, it was all quiet. So I stepped out and he was gone and this note was here."

Collins came out of Roger's room. "Stuff's all still here."

"Note says he'll be back," Maureen said.

Mark went to his room to change while Maureen paced.

"I'm sure he'll be fine."

"Yeah, well, you were also sure that nothing would happen," she snapped.

Collins nodded. "Suppose I deserved that."

"Yeah, I suppose so."

Maureen's glare flicked back to Mark as he emerged fully dressed from his room. "Why would you tell him you're still mad?"

"Because I am! I didn't know I was supposed to walk on fucking eggshells around him," Mark said.

Maureen rolled her eyes and stood up. "Fine. I'm going to look for him."

"Maybe we should wait here," Collins said.

"Fine. You guys wait here. I'm going to look for him."

* * *

Roger stormed down the streets. Mark wanted to be pissed, fine. Let him be pissed. Let him be pissed and let Maureen get all worked up and let Collins play the hero again. If that's how they wanted it, fine.

Roger found The Man in the park and handed over the fifty he still had from Maureen's purse. The Man slipped him a baggie. Roger found an alleyway that seemed dark enough. He glanced around, making sure no one was in sight. He snorted the whole bag, then sank to the ground. Roger sat in the alleyway, hating himself and what he'd done, and cried.

* * *

"Roger! Roger! Where are you?" Maureen shouted.

Mark rolled his eyes. "Maureen, we're in the middle of New York City. You realize how many Rogers there probably are?"

"I have to do something. Besides, he's the only Roger who'll know my voice."

Mark sighed. "We've been walking the streets for three hours, honey. Let's go back. The note said he'd be back. Maybe he's already home."

"Fine."

Mark reached for her hand, but Maureen crossed her arms over her chest. "Not now, Pookie."

Maureen glanced up and down each alleyway they passed. At one, she stopped. Mark opened his mouth to speak, but Maureen put a finger to her lips. She stared down the alleyway, squinting and took off down the alleyway.

"Maureen! Maureen, what the hell—"

Mark stopped when she knelt in front of the figure. He knew without asking that it was Roger. The leather jacket, the wavy blonde hair. Mark knew it was Roger. Kneeling down, Mark felt his anger dissipate.

"Roger? Rog, you okay, man?"

Roger's head rolled up to look at Mark. He grinned. "Hey, Marky."

Maureen frowned and noticed the bag lying at his feet. "You bastard," she mumbled.

Mark felt himself shutting down. He saw the bag and went numb, letting his body go on autopilot. "Come on, Roger."

"Where we goin', Marky?"

"Home."

Mark helped him to his feet. "Come on, big guy."

Maureen stayed on the ground. Mark slid Roger's arm over his shoulders. "You coming, Mo?"

"Yeah…yeah, I'm coming."

Mark lugged Roger along, glad that his roommate had at least chosen a nearby alleyway.


	27. Emotion, Devotion, Causing a Commotion

Roger mumbled and joked the whole way back to the loft. Mark ignored him, glancing back every few seconds to make sure Maureen was coming. He managed to haul Roger up the stairs and shoved him into the loft.

"We found him," he called out.

Collins smiled in relief, but frowned as soon as his eyes fell to Roger. His eyes narrowed. "He's—"

Mark nodded. "We found him in an alleyway. There was an empty bag at his feet."

"Fuck."

"I knew this was too easy."

"What?"

"When he came home from the hospital and didn't relapse, I knew we were lucky. I knew it was too good to be true. I knew—"

"Mark, shut the hell up," Maureen said as she slammed the loft door.

Roger giggled from the couch. "Ooh, Marky's in trouble."

"Roger, shut the hell up too."

Collins put a hand on her shoulder, but she shook it off.

"Maureen, baby—"

"Don't. Whatever you guys have to say, any of you, I really don't want to hear it. This is bullshit! Collins and me were gone for, like, five fucking minutes! You can't be civil for five goddamn minutes? And Roger, you can't be sober for five fucking minutes?"

"I was sober! I was sober and you guys all got pissed."

"We got pissed that you went back to that shit!"

"I said I was sorry! What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want you to stop this shit! How are we supposed to believe you're sorry when you keep doing this?"

"Fine. I'm the asshole. That's how you want it, isn't it?"

"What?"

"You've all got this all figured out, don't you? You get the drama that you love and Mark gets to be pissed and Collins gets to play hero. So fine, if that's what you want, then fine. I'll play along. I'll play the junkie-loser you have to save just like you want."

Maureen crossed the room to the couch in two steps and slapped Roger across the face. "Don't you dare try to blame this shit on us you selfish, self-centered son of a bitch."

Roger stared at her, stunned back into reality by the slap. Collins stared at him in disbelief. Roger sighed and looked to Mark. The filmmaker stood staring at the counter, his back to Roger. Mark glanced over his shoulder, waiting until Roger went back to ignoring him before turning and starting to film. Collins noticed and opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself.

Maureen stood in front of the couch, angry tears dancing in her eyes.

"What? Now you're gonna cry? God, Maureen, isn't this what you want? The drama? The heroics?"

"I want you to stop doing this shit!"

"Why? Why the fuck should I? I'm dying anyway, what fucking difference does it make?"

"It makes a difference to me!"

"It's just all about you, isn't it?"

"Fuck you," she said, wiping at the tears falling down her cheeks. "I'm trying to help you!"

"Maybe I don't want your help. I was just fucking fine out there."

"Yeah, stoned out of your mind? You could've died! Do you realize that?"

"Maybe I wanted to!"

"Fuck, Roger! It's not all about you either! Would you think about someone else for two goddamn seconds?"

"Look who's talking! Pretty fucking ironic that you of all people would tell me to think of someone besides myself."

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

"It means look at you! You constantly have to be the center of everything. You get people wrapped around your fuckin' finger and the second they stop paying attention to you, you throw 'em away like trash!"

"Go to hell."

"Why? Because I'm telling the truth. The truth that everyone here fucking knows and doesn't have the balls to tell you! You know I'm right. You're a selfish, dramatic, slutty little bitch and the only reason you're even with Mark is because he puts up with your shit!"

"Enough!" Collins shouted.

Maureen stared at Roger, her tears now streaming down her cheeks. She shook her head at him. Collins looked back and forth between them.

"Mo, you okay?"

"I need some air," she said. "I'll be on the roof."


	28. Leave Me

Collins grabbed Roger by the back of the neck and pulled him into the bedroom. "Stay in there."

Collins slammed the door shut and dragged a bookcase over, blocking it. He spun around to face Mark. The filmmaker set the camera on the table.

"I'm going to go check on her," Mark said.

"Yeah, you do that."

Maureen heard someone come up behind her. Probably Mark. She didn't bother turning around.

"He didn't mean it."

"Yes he did," she whispered.

"Maureen, it's the with—"

"Mark, just leave me alone. Please."

Maureen tried not to cringe as she felt his arms snake around her.

"He didn't know what he was saying."

"Mark, I really just want to be alone right now."

"Baby—"

"Seriously, Mark. Just leave me the hell alone right now."

Mark's hands left her and she heard him retreat. When the door had clicked shut, she sank to the ground, letting her tears fall. Maybe Roger hadn't meant it, but Mark hadn't disagreed and Mark hadn't argued. Maybe Roger hadn't meant it, but Mark did.

* * *

"Collins, let me out!" Roger yelled.

Collins pulled a chair up to the door and picked up his book.

"You just gonna ignore him?"

"Yep."

Mark rolled his eyes and picked up his camera. "I'm gonna go film."

"You really think that's what's necessary?"

"Collins, after what just went down, I really don't give a shit what you think is necessary."

Collins glared at him but said nothing. Mark grabbed his scarf and headed out, trying to ignore the guilt.

* * *

Mark had only been gone a few minutes when Maureen returned. Collins set the book down.

"You okay?"

Maureen stared at him, a scowl on her lips. "Do I look like I'm okay?"

"Fair enough. You wanna talk about it?"

"Nothing to talk about."

Collins sighed and watched her pick up a notebook and go out to the fire escape. Her legs dangled over the edge as she scribbled furiously. He could see her reach up every so often to wipe at her face.

"Collins, open the fucking door!"

"Not gonna do that, Rog."

"Open the fucking door!"

Collins heard a thud as Roger slammed himself against the door. There was a groan. "You done now?"

"Let me out!"

"Not right now."

"You can't do this!"

"I'm already doin' it."

"I fucking hate you!"

"That's fine."


	29. Though We May Have Our Disputes

**Note:** _So many, many thanks to all who reviewed the last few chapters. These next couple of chapters are going to shift attention back towards Maureen and deal with the eating disorder we saw briefly earlier in the story. Hope you guys like. And as always, it belongs to Jonathan Larson. And if you or someone you know has an eating disorder, please seek professional help._

* * *

Collins had to go back to work the next week. He made Maureen promise they'd call if things got out of hand. Now only in the psychological withdrawals, Roger brooded and sulked around the loft.

"Roger, I'm goin' out to film. You wanna come with?"

Roger glared at him and shook his head.

"Fine. Baby, you wanna come?"

Maureen looked up from her notebook. "Huh? Oh, no, I'll stay here."

"You, um, you sure?"

"Positive."

After Mark left, Roger sat staring at Maureen until she set the notebook down. She sighed and tossed it onto the table. "Fine, Roger. What?"

"What the fuck is your problem?"

"Excuse me?"

"What the fuck is your problem? You're treating Mark like shit."

"Shut up, Roger. You don't know."

"Oh give me a break. You're being a complete bitch. You wanna give me the silent treatment, fine. I don't care. But he's your boyfriend. He deserves more than that."

Maureen stood up and went to the bedroom she shared with Mark. When the door was closed, Roger paced the loft, his mind racing. He wanted to run—wanted to walk out the door and go straight to the park. Roger wasn't sure what stopped him, but he knew if he left he wouldn't come back.

The desire for a hit was slowly replaced with guilt. He hadn't meant to upset her like that. Why the hell did he have to say such asshole things sometimes? She was his friend. Roger knew he shouldn't say things like that. He knew he didn't have the full story. Maureen wouldn't just be a bitch to Mark for no reason.

The door to the bedroom opened and Maureen came out. Her eyes were red. She grabbed her notebook off the coffee table and went to the fire escape. Roger watched her, his guilt magnifying as she scribbled furiously in the notebook. A few minutes later, Maureen closed the notebook and came in.

He wanted to say something but knew nothing would be right. She went to the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind her. Roger frowned. Something wasn't right. He went to the door, surprised to hear water running. What the hell? Roger pressed an ear to the door. A retching sound drifted through the door. He stepped back into the living room and waited for her to come out.

"You okay?"

"I'm fine."

"It sounded like you were getting sick."

"I'm fine."

Roger's mind flashed back to high school.

* * *

"_Mo? You okay?" he asked, knocking on the door._

_There was no answer. Roger knocked again. "Maureen?"_

_He heard the clear sound of someone throwing up. Roger hated when people got sick. He wasn't good at the whole tending-to-someone-else thing. Taking a deep breath, Roger opened the door._

_Maureen sat hunched over the toilet, vomiting. Roger dropped to his knees behind her and held the hair she'd been holding back herself. He rubbed her back with his free hand._

"_It's okay, it's okay," he whispered._

_When she'd stopped and leaned back against him, Roger let go of her hair and slipped his hand around to feel her forehead. Cool._

"_Mo? You okay, baby?" Roger helped her stand up._

"_Fine. I'm fine. Just…food poisoning or something."_

"_Mo, you didn't eat lunch. What'd you get food poisoning from?"_

_She shrugged him off as they reached her bedroom. "I'm fine."_

* * *

"Maureen, you're not fine. What—"

"Yes, Roger, I am. I'm fine."

"Maureen, I know you—"

She slammed the door of the bedroom. Roger stood staring at it, wondering what the hell was going on. He knocked softly. When she didn't answer, Roger went in. Maureen lay on the bed she and Mark shared, her face buried in the pillows.

"Go away," she mumbled as soon as he sat down.

"No."

"Roger, I'm seriously not in the mood for your shit right now. Just leave me alone. Please."

"I'm sorry for what I said. I just…Mark's my best friend, you know? I don't want to see him get hurt."

"And that's all that a selfish, dramatic, slutty little bitch could do to him right?" she asked as she rolled over and sat up.

Roger shook his head. "That's not what I said. I didn't—"

"That's exactly what you said."

Maureen bolted from the loft before Roger could stop her.


	30. Dancing Her Dance

Roger sat on Mark and Maureen's bed, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do now. He wanted to go after her, but somehow felt like that would only make things worse. Besides, if Mark got home first, he'd assume Roger was out getting high.

"Fuck," he sighed.

Roger got up and headed back into the living room. He wished Mark would get home. The loft was completely empty. Roger shook his head and went into his own room. Sinking down to the bed, he felt around under the bed for his Fender guitar. He'd shoved it under there after April died. Roger couldn't remember how long ago that had been. Now he picked it up slowly, handling it like an ancient relic. He turned it over in his hands then set it down.

That notebook. That stupid notebook she was always scribbling in. Roger knew it was some journal or something but if she wouldn't tell him what the hell he'd done, he would find out.

In the living room, Roger found the notebook lying forgotten on the coffee table. He picked it up, feeling a moment of guilt before opening it. His hands flipped through the pages, looking for the most recent entries. His eyes stopped on the most recent entries.

_Roger thinks I treat Mark like shit. All the crap he's put us through and he…fuck…maybe he's right. I know he's right about what he said before. Mark tried to tell me that he only said it because he was in withdrawals--that he didn't mean it. He meant it. He meant it and Mark didn't disagree. If my own boyfriend won't stand up for me when someone says that, it must be true, right?_

What the hell had he said? Roger's eyes skimmed over the page, rereading it. Numbers were scribbled in the margins. None of it made sense. What had he said? Roger flipped back to the entry before. There. The relapse.

_He tried to blame it on us. Collins, Mark, me. Tried to say that it was what we wanted. Now Mark could be mad and Collins could be the hero and I'd get the drama I wanted. I got so fucking mad when he said that. Doesn't he see that we love him? That we get mad because he's too good to fuck up his life like this? I don't understand…_

_I can't believe the shit he said…he…I can't believe him. And the worst thing was Mark and Collins. They didn't even try to defend me or argue with him. Collins just said "Enough" when he decided Roger had crossed a line. I can't do this. I can't…He's supposed to be my best friend. How could he say that shit? How could my boyfriend not stop him from saying it? Even later when we were alone, Mark didn't deny what he said, didn't tell me Roger was wrong…If just Roger had said it, I guess I'd find a way to deal with it. But Mark thinks it too. And Collins… None of them care. _

Roger closed the notebook and set it back carefully on the table. Maybe she was just being dramatic. Maybe? Roger shook his head, knowing that this wasn't dramatics. It was too much like before. Like high school…

_

* * *

Roger followed her to the bedroom and sat beside her on the bed. "Baby, you okay?"_

"_I told you, I'm fine."_

"_Babe, you threw up. Are you sick?"_

"_No."_

_Roger saw the tears in her eyes. He swallowed and took a deep breath. "Are you—are you pregnant?"_

"_No, I'm not pregnant. Don't worry, I won't fuck up your life like that."_

"_Baby, that's not what I meant. I just…well usually people only throw up if they're sick or pregnant. Since you're not sick…"_

"_Yeah, well, like I said, I'm fine. I'm not sick. I'm not pregnant. Just leave me alone."_

_Roger stared at her. She sat on the bed, a pillow clutched against her stomach. Her eyes wouldn't meet his. Roger put a hand over hers. _

"_Did you throw up on purpose?"_

"_What?"_

"_Did you throw up on purpose?"_

"_Leave me alone."_


	31. How Could You?

**Note: **_Thanks once again for all the wonderful reviews! They're why I keep updating... _

CandyBarWrapper, _you were wondering about the hints of Maureen having an eating disorder...In the stage version of the song "Rent" when Joanne calls Maureen, she asks if she's eaten anything and then says "You haven't eaten all day...You won't throw up! You won't throw up!" and I believe there's a similar line(s) in "We're Okay" (a Joanne solo cut from the film version), but I could be wrong on that._

* * *

Roger sat waiting for Mark.

"Really need a fuckin' hit," he mumbled.

The physical withdrawals were mostly gone. Roger just didn't know how to deal with Maureen. She'd done this before and he hadn't dealt with it well then either. His arm itched with the urge to shoot up. Roger stood up and started to pace the loft. Mark better get home soon.

"Rog? You okay?"

Roger nodded. "Yeah, yeah, fine, Mark."

"You're pacing."

"Yeah."

"How come?"

"Why d'you think?"

"Okay, just, uh, just sit down with me. You've been doing great. And I'm really proud of you that you're here right now."

Roger rolled his eyes.

"You want some tea? Some coffee, maybe?"

"No."

Mark glanced around the loft. "Where's Maureen?"

"She…I don't know."

"She go out?"

"Sort of."

Mark sighed and pulled his glasses off to rub his eyes. "Okay, spill. What happened?"

Roger recounted their fight and showed Mark the notebook. Mark's blue eyes flicked over the words, wincing to read her pain. When he was done, he set it down and sighed again.

"What did I say?"

"You don't remember?"

"Would I ask you if I remembered?"

Mark got up and went to the room. He returned a minute later with a film reel and his camera.

"You fuckin' taped it?"

"Yeah, Rog. You started fighting with her and I knew you wouldn't remember so I filmed it."

Roger sat in silence as Mark set up the projector and tacked up the sheet that served as their screen.

"_I'm dying anyway. What difference does it make?"_

"_It makes a difference to me!" Maureen cried._

"_It's just all about you, isn't it?"_

Roger winced at the harshness of his own words.

"_Pretty fucking ironic that you of all people would tell me to think of someone besides myself…Look at you—you constantly have to be the center of everything…"_

Roger felt tears stinging his eyes. Why the hell would he say that? Mark stared at the screen stone faced.

"_I'm telling you the truth. The truth that everyone here fucking knows and doesn't have the balls to tell you! You know I'm right. You're a selfish, dramatic, slutty little bitch and the only reason you're even with Mark is because he puts up with your shit!"_

_Maureen's tears flew down her cheeks. Collins stood up and put his hands in the air. "Enough!"_

The tape ended.

Roger shook his head in disbelief. "I didn't mean it."

"I know. But you still said it. And she still took it pretty bad."

"You didn't stop me."

"What?"

"You didn't stop me. Why didn't you stop me?"

"Because you were high—what the hell good would it have done?"

"It would've let her know that you didn't agree!"

"What?"

Roger flipped open the notebook and showed Mark the entry he'd found.

"Oh fuck…" he mumbled.

"What the hell are you doing?" Maureen asked. They hadn't heard her open the door. She grabbed the notebook from Mark's hands. "That's my notebook. My personal, private notebook. Just what the fuck were you two doing?"

"Maureen, baby, calm down. Roger just—"

"Roger did this? Started this? You know what, I don't care. I don't even care who started it. You can both just fuck off."

"Maureen—" Roger reached for her arm.

"Don't. Don't touch me. Don't you dare!"

"Baby, we didn't—"

Maureen grabbed Roger's lighter from the counter. Without a word, she stared silently at her boyfriend and best friend and held the lighter to her notebook. It went up in flames. She dropped it in the sink and went to the bathroom, locking it behind her.

Mark ran to the sink and turned it on, extinguishing the blazing notebook. Roger's urge for a fix chose that instant to manifest itself. He jumped up, uncertain of what he wanted to do. Mark's eyes met his and Roger turned towards the door.

"Don't," he said.

His voice wasn't particularly loud nor was his tone particularly demanding or harsh. Instead, it was almost a plea. That one simple word. _Don't._ Roger blinked back tears and turned to face Mark. The filmmaker turned off the sink, leaving the ashen notebook there.

"Please, Roger. Don't. Not now…not ever…please…"

Roger's face washed over with something Mark hadn't seen before. Uncertainty, sorrow, remorse—those were all things Roger's face had shown. This was different. This was shame. Mark approached him slowly and gave him a gentle hug.

"Just sit down, Roger. It's okay. It's okay."

Mark bolted the loft door, praying Roger wouldn't leave and went to the bathroom. He could hear Maureen throwing up.

"Baby, you okay?"

"Fuck off."

Mark tried to open the door. He wasn't surprised to find it locked. "Maureen, I'm sorry. Please, just open the door."

"No."

"Maureen, please…I'm sorry…We're just worried about you."

More retching noises.

"Baby? Maureen, please—"

"Go away!"

"Maureen—"

"You don't understand! Just leave me alone!"

She was crying now. Mark felt tears stinging his eyes. He pounded on the door. "Maureen, open the door."

Maureen didn't answer him so he knocked again. "Maureen! Maureen, seriously, you're really freaking me out, okay? I'm sorry! I'm sorry we read your notebook, I'm sorry… Please, baby…"

Mark felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Roger. He stepped aside to let Roger try.

"Mo? Mo, it's Roger. Open the door."

"No."

More vomiting.

"Maureen, I'm telling you open this fucking door right now!"

"Go to hell!"

"Maureen, I'm sorry! I saw Mark's tape and I saw—"

"You watched it? You fucking watched it?"

"Mark had taped—"

"Maureen, please, I wanted him to see—"

More vomiting.

"Maureen, don't get pissed, okay? Please, just open the door."

Roger's mind flashed back to April. April didn't lock the door. If April had locked the door, he would've known something was wrong. He would've kicked it down. He would've saved her. "Maureen, you have three seconds to open the door and then I'm kicking it down."

He started counting to himself and heard a thud. Roger rammed his shoulder into the door. It didn't budge. He kicked at it and it groaned, but held tight.

"Mark! Mark, help me!" Roger said, snapping the filmmaker back to the task at hand. "Mark! I need you to help me knock this down!"

Mark nodded and listened to Roger counting to three before ramming his shoulder into the door, Roger doing the same beside him. The door slammed down. Maureen lay on the ground beside the tub just in front of the toilet.

Roger's mind flashed back to April. April had been in the tub. April's hair falling over her face like that. Only April's hair was red like strawberries, not the dark chocolate color of Maureen's. No, it wasn't the same, he told himself.

Still, his mind couldn't shake the memories. Mark was bent over Maureen, shaking her the same way Roger shook April. And Maureen, just like April, wasn't answering.

Roger blinked back tears, shaking his head, and ran from the loft.

* * *

**Note: **_Okay, I know everything's falling apart, but that's the point...our Bohemians aren't exactly in good places at the start of the show...And plus we've got Mark now dealing with Maureen's problems and Roger's...Maybe it's time to call in reinforcements (aka Benny? aka Collins? or someone else...)_


	32. We're Okay

**Note: **_Thanks again for more reviews! As Angel would say, "The more the merry ho ho ho" (okay so the last part doesn't quite fit, you get my drift haha) Glad everyone seems to be enjoying it. Don't be too hard on Roger for the last chapter...he's going to explain this chapter why he left._

* * *

Mark heard Roger leave but couldn't do anything about it. He had to help Maureen. If Roger wants to screw up again that's his issue. Mark knelt beside Maureen and shook her gently.

"Maureen? Maureen, baby, open your eyes. Open your eyes, please."

She woke slowly. "Mark?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay, baby. You passed out. Come on, let me put you in bed."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It's okay. We'll talk about it later."

Mark scooped her into his arms, blinking away fearful tears as he realized how light she was. How had he not noticed that? Sure he didn't typically pick her up, but shouldn't he have noticed something? Mark laid her on the bed.

"Cold," she mumbled.

Mark pulled the blankets over her and grabbed her an extra blanket from the closet.

* * *

Roger was halfway down the stairs when he ran into Collins. He tried to move past his old friend, but Collins grabbed him by the arm.

"Where you runnin' off to?"

Roger looked away, refusing to meet Collins's steady gaze.

"You selfish son of a bitch," Collins muttered.

"You don't understand—"

"Get upstairs."

Roger tried to jerk away. "You can't tell me what to do."

Collins slammed him against the wall. "Roger, I will kick your ass if you don't get it back up the stairs now."

Roger stared at him for a minute, then turned back towards the loft. Collins's grip loosened enough for Roger to move but he kept a hand tight around one arm.

Mark went to the kitchen for a glass of water. He heard two voices on the stairs but ignored them. His only concern was Maureen. As he headed back to Maureen, Collins shoved Roger into the loft and came in after him, slamming the loft door shut.

"Mark, what the hell's goin' on?"

"I don't have time for this, Collins."

"Make time! I come over and find this boy runnin' back to his dealer and you're just standin' there like nothing's wrong."

Mark set the glass down on the counter and approached Collins. He glared at Collins, staring him down.

"You wanna know what I'm doing? Ask Roger what was going on when he left."

"What? What happened? Where's Maureen?"

Mark shook his head and looked at Roger. "I'm going to take care of her and talk to her. Fill him in. Leave again and I'll kick your ass myself."

Roger was stunned, not so much by what Mark said, but by his tone. He didn't sound angry or loud or enraged. He sounded perfectly calm, almost tired. Roger sat down on the couch and motioned for Collins to take a seat.

* * *

Maureen was sitting up in bed, having thrown the blankets off. Mark brought in the glass of water and handed it to her.

"I don't want it."

"Maureen, it's water."

"I know what it is."

"Jesus, Maureen, would you please just drink the water? For me? Just one drink."

She stared at him for a minute and took a sip. Mark smiled and she took another sip.

"See? Not so bad."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Don't apologize, baby. Just…why?"

Maureen looked away, tears starting to fall. Mark reached out a hand and brushed one away. He held her chin and turned her face towards him. "Maureen, baby, look at me."

She lifted her eyes to his, expecting disgust or anger. Instead, she saw fear and concern. "What?"

"Maureen, I…I don't understand this. I just…why? Did I do something? Did I not do something?"

Maureen didn't answer him.

"Maureen, please, I just want to help you."

"I don't need help."

"Maureen, please…whatever it is, whatever I said or did, I'm sorry."

"This isn't about you."

"Then tell me what it's about. Please, Mo, don't shut me out. Let me help you."

"Stop saying that. I don't need help. I'm fine."

Mark stared in disbelief. "Maureen, I carried you in here because you threw up until you passed out."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"It's not about you."

"Maureen, please…I love you. Please…if you don't want to tell me why, then at least—"

"You wanna know why? Because I could. Because it's the one thing that I have some amount of control over!" she paused to take a breath, then mumbled something Mark didn't quite hear.

"What? What was the last thing you said?"

"I said that you don't love me anyway."

"Maureen, of course I love you."

"No, you don't. All this shit's been going on…you don't care about me. You know how long I've been doing this? Since Roger ended up in the hospital. I thought…"

"You thought what?"

"I thought if I was prettier or more attractive...maybe then you'd love me."

Mark's tears spilled out and he pulled her into a hug. She tried to pull away, but Mark held her to him. "I love you. I do love you. I love you. I'm sorry I didn't see that you were hurting…I'm so sorry. I love you. You have to believe that. I love you."

"Why?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Why would someone like you love me?"

"Because…because you're spirited. Because you're beautiful and sweet and smart and funny and…and you're so energetic…And because I can't imagine my life without you in it."

Maureen's head fell to his shoulder as her tears came harder. "I don't want this…I don't want to be like this…I don't want to hurt…"

"It's okay, baby…we'll get through this…we'll be okay…you'll be okay, baby. I love you…I promise it'll be okay…"

* * *

Collins sat back in the chair and sighed, one hand rubbing his chin. "So you two busted down the door and when you saw she was passed out, you left?"

"I didn't know what else to do."

"How about helping her? Or helping Mark? Or just sitting here and doing nothing?"

"Look, I know I fucked up, okay? I shouldn't have left. I should've known what to do but I panicked."

"You panicked? That's how you rationalize—"

Roger jumped to his feet not to run but to shout at Collins. "Yeah, Collins, that's how I rationalize. I'm sorry I'm not as fucking perfect as you! I saw her and all I kept seeing was April. She looked like April! I thought it was April all over again and I couldn't handle that, so yeah, I fucking left!"

Collins stood and walked towards Roger. The musician stared at him and blinked back tears.

"Roger, Maureen's gonna be fine. Just calm down, okay?"

"No! No, it's not okay! I--hell, Collins, you don't get it…I was too late to help April, I was too—"

Collins stepped forward and put his hands on Roger's shoulders. "Roger, April—what April did is not your fault."

"But I was too late and then I hesitated and knocked down that door and…."

"And Maureen's fine. April killed herself Rog. It's not your fault."

Roger shook his head, tears clouding his vision. "I—"

Collins pulled Roger into a hug. "Not your fault, man."

Roger hesitated and started to cry. "I thought Mo…I-I thought…"

"It's okay, man. She's okay. You're okay…It's not your fault."


	33. Something I Should've Told You

**Note: **_Much love to everyone that's reviewed. Just so you know, the sections written in italics are flashbacks._

* * *

Mark emerged from the bedroom and shut the door quietly behind him. Collins and Roger looked up expectantly.

"She's sleeping."

"What the hell happened?" Collins asked.

Mark looked to Roger and Collins rolled his eyes.

"He told me what happened now. I mean, what the hell—has this been going on long?"

Mark sighed and flopped down into the armchair. "Apparently since Roger was in the hospital."

Roger winced.

"Rog, it's not your fault. It's just the time frame," Mark said.

Roger shook his head. "But I should've told you guys…"

"You knew about this?" Mark asked, rising to his feet.

"Not now. I…she did this before. She used to…in high school."

_

* * *

Roger sat on the plush couch holding Maureen's hand. Her parents sat opposite them. Judy and Stan Johnson had talked with Roger the night before. He told them everything he knew about Maureen making herself sick. Judy had noticed the rapid weight loss, but Maureen had blamed it on the flu and dance rehearsals. Roger's explanation made much more sense._

"_I told you guys, nothing's wrong. I just had an upset stomach. It's probably just the flu."_

"_Baby, it's not the flu and you know it," Roger said._

"_I can't believe this. You guys are all completely overreacting."_

"_Honey, we just want you to get better," her mother said, tears springing to her hazel eyes._

"_I am getting better. I'm fine. I'm eating healthier and exercising and—"_

"_You're not eating," Roger said._

"_How the hell would you know?"_

"_Because I watch you. I love you, baby, but I see the way you push around the food so it looks like you ate."_

"_I don't know what you're talking about."_

"_Maureen, you need help," her father said, speaking for the first time._

"_Daddy, I'm fine. Really. Look, I'm sorry if I worried you guys but if it'll make you happy, I'll eat more."_

_Roger stared at the floor and then looked up at her. "Mo, how much do you weigh?"_

"_What? I don't know."_

"_Come on. You've got a scale in the bathroom. Let me see that you're a normal weight and I'll take back everything I said."_

_Maureen's eyes filled with tears. She glared at her parents, then at Roger. "Fine."_

_In the bathroom, she stood on the scale shaking. "102. Happy?"_

_Maureen's mother backed up into the hallway and went to the kitchen. Roger blinked back tears and pulled her into his arms. She tried to fight him, but was too weak. He hugged her to him, his tears falling in her hair as she sobbed into his chest._

* * *

"Why didn't you tell us that before?" Mark asked.

"Because…because I thought she was okay now. She was okay for a long time. I didn't think you'd need to know. Besides, I figured that she'd told you and if she hadn't, then it wasn't my place."

Mark ran his hands through his hair. "Why does she do it?"

"What?"

"Why does she do it?"

"Mark, Roger's not a therapist. There could be a million reasons."

"No, there's a reason. She kept talking about control and wanting me to love her. Why does she do it? What happened that she wants control and love so badly that she'd do that to herself?"

Roger blinked back tears and rested his head in his hands for a minute before returning Mark's steady gaze.

"She does it because she doesn't think she has control over anything. Her parents always controlled her every move so last time it was that that finally set it off. She never really got over that."

"And now?"

Roger shrugged. "She can't control me? I don't know…I swear to you, Mark, I wish I could tell you what the hell this was about, how we fix this…"

"What did her parents do last time?" Collins asked.

_

* * *

Roger held the bouquet in his shaking hand. It had been two months since the confrontation about her eating disorder. Maureen's parents had taken her to a hospital that specialized in treating girls with eating disorders. Roger had reluctantly agreed to wait to visit._

_Maureen went through the first two weeks of treatment with only phone calls. During the third week, her parents began to visit once a week. Finally, after two months of treatment and Roger sitting through three interviews with her doctors, they agreed to let Roger visit her._

_When he entered the lounge they visited in, Roger almost didn't recognize her. Maureen had gained fifteen pounds since he'd last seen her. He smiled, blinking back tears. She turned and saw him and ran towards him._

"_Roger!"_

"_Hey baby!" he said, pulling her into his arms. _

"_I missed you so much."_

"_I missed you too. I love you so much…Look at you. You look fantastic!"_

_Maureen blushed. "You think so?"_

"_I know so. You look more beautiful than you ever have before."_

* * *

"So what do we do now?" Mark asked.

Collins shrugged. "I don't know, man. We can't afford a hospital…fuck…"

"We make her eat, make her talk to us, reassure her that we all love her and we're not going anywhere," Roger said.

"Think it'll work?" Mark asked.

Roger nodded. "It has to."


	34. You Won't Throw Up

When Maureen woke, Roger was in the kitchen cooking. She glanced around the loft.

"Where's Mark?"

"He and Collins went to get some groceries."

Maureen's eyes snapped back to him. "You called Collins?"

"No. Actually, he was on his way up to the loft when we busted the bathroom door down."

"Oh." She swayed slightly.

Roger was at her side in an instant, arm around her waist. "You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Just got a little dizzy. I'm—"

"Don't. Please don't."

Maureen didn't say anything but let Roger help her to the couch. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"Mo, you don't have anything to be sorry for."

"That's what Mark said too."

"He's right."

Maureen shivered so Roger got up and grabbed a blanket out of the closet. "Here."

She took it from him, trying to smile. "Thanks."

Roger smiled and went back to the kitchen. He came back with a bowl and set it in front of her. She froze.

"Come on, it's chicken noodle soup. I happen to know for a fact that it's your favorite."

She shook her head.

"I'm….no, I'm not hungry."

"Maureen, you need to eat."

"I'll eat later. I'm not hungry."

"Maureen, you'll eat now."

"I can't. I'm nauseous. If I eat, I'll throw it up."

"No, you won't. And if you do, then I'll hold your hair back while Mark fixes more and we'll keep doing this until you're able to keep something down."

Tears streamed down her cheeks. "Please don't make me do this."

"You can't do this to yourself."

"You're one to talk! First you get all fucked up on heroin and then you call me all those names and then…and then…" she trailed off as her cries turned to quiet sobs.

"Maureen, I know I fucked up. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. And I know that sorry can't even come close to making up for the shit I said, but you have to know that I don't think those things. I shouldn't have ever said them."

Maureen's eyes dried suddenly. "How am I supposed to believe you?"

"What?"

"Why should I believe you?"

"Maureen, I would not lie about this! Just let me help you, please."

"Help me? I don't need your help."

Maureen stood up. Roger's hands on her shoulders pushed her back down. She glared at him but picked up the bowl of soup. Roger sighed and sat back down. Maureen glared at him and flung the bowl across the loft. It shattered against the wall.

"Maureen!" This was exactly the same scenario that had played out when he tried to get her to eat in high school, before the confrontation.

"Leave me the fuck alone!" she was crying again.

"No."

"Leave me alone!"

"No!"

"I hate you!"

"Fine! Go ahead and hate me! If it means that you're still alive, then I'm okay with that."

"You're such an asshole."

"Yeah, I am."

Maureen tried to walk out, but Roger grabbed her arm. "You're not leaving."

"Fuck off."

"You're not leaving, Mo."

"Why not? You did."

"And I came back."

"So will I."

"Maureen, you're not leaving."

He heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Maureen heard it too and took advantage of Roger's distraction, kicking him in the shin and twisting out of his grip.

"Mark! Stop her!" Roger yelled. He heard a scuffle and arguing as he hobbled out to the hallway. Collins held two bags of groceries. Mark had dropped a bag on the ground and held Maureen in his arms.

"Let go of me!"

"No! Maureen, no! You can't leave like this."

"You-you don't understand."

"I know I don't but I want to. Please, Mo, please…baby? Please, stay…I love you."

She stared into his eyes and for a split second Roger thought Mark was going to get the same swift kick to the shin. Instead, she fell against him, crying. Mark picked her up and carried her into the loft.

Roger knelt down and picked up the groceries Mark had dropped.

"I take it she wouldn't eat the soup?"

Roger glanced up at Collins. "She threw it against the wall."

"Always knew that girl was stubborn," he said with a sigh.

"How can you be so calm after that?"

"Rog, we got your ass off heroin, we can make her ass eat."

Roger stood up, groceries in hand, and walked back into the loft. Collins followed behind and hoped his words were right.

* * *

Maureen thought Mark would let her go lie down. She needed to just lie down and sleep. Just needed them to leave her alone. She'd eat something tomorrow and they'd believe her and leave her alone. Instead, Mark sat her on the couch. She tried to stand, but he held her arm.

"No."

"I'm just going to lie down."

"No. Not until you eat."

"I'm not hungry."

He saw Collins come in. They nodded to one another and Collins dropped the groceries on the table.

"Mo?"

"Yeah?"

"Sandwich or soup?"

"What?"

Collins circled around to the front of the couch. "We went shopping. Would you like a sandwich or some soup?"

"N-nothing. Nothing, I'm fine."

Collins sighed and returned to the kitchen. Roger had left the other bag of groceries and moved to the broken bowl on the floor. He quietly picked up the pieces, taking care not to cut himself.

Maureen wanted to get up and run, but Mark kept an arm tightly around her. Collins came back a minute later with a bowl in hand.

"There was still some chicken noodle soup left."

"I don't want it."

"Maureen, you have to eat."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. And you will," Collins said firmly.

She looked at Mark.

"Babe, he's right. If you don't want soup, we'll make you something else. But you have to eat."

Maureen hesitated, biting her lip. When she spoke, her voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Fruit?"

Collins smiled. "We got grapes, oranges, apples."

"Grapes, please."

Collins nodded and took the soup back to the kitchen. Roger smiled at the floor, glad that she'd agreed to eat something. He winced as a piece of the bowl poked his skin. It felt like a needle. A needle…wouldn't this all be easier to deal with if—no. No, he wouldn't even think it. Needles were what fucked him up in the first place. Roger finished cleaning up the broken bowl and sat in the armchair, not trusting himself to be alone.

Collins returned with a bowl of grapes. He handed them to Maureen and leaned down to kiss her forehead. "You're gonna be fine, baby girl."

"Thank you."

"Just remember we all love you, okay? And we're all here for you," Collins said, patting her arm.

Maureen smiled and stared down at the bowl of grapes. Collins saw her tense up and went out to the fire escape. He hoped his instinct was right, that she just didn't want to eat with all of them looking at her. Roger must've guessed the same thing because a moment later, he'd joined Collins on the fire escape.

Maureen stared down at the fruit, then looked at Mark. He rubbed her arm. "It's okay, baby. Here, see?" She watched as he popped a grape in his mouth, smiling at her.

Her hand was shaking as she reached for a grape and put it in her mouth. Mark nearly cried when she swallowed it and, without being prompted or told to, reached for another. And another. And another.

In a few minutes, she'd eaten nearly half the bowl. She looked at Mark and shook her head. "I don't think I can eat any more."

"You're not throwing up what you did eat."

"I know."

"And I'm making sure you eat again in a little while."

She nodded and brushed a tear away. "I know."

"Okay, then. You did good, baby. You did really good. I love you," he said, kissing her cheek. He leaned his forehead against hers and stared into her eyes. "I love you, Maureen."

"I love you too," she whispered.

"Will you have some more water?"

Maureen pulled away and bit her lip, looking not scared so much as shy.

"What? What is it?"

"Do you think…um…do-do you think you could make me some tea?"


	35. You Just Don't Know

Mark sat in the loft, staring out the window. Roger stared into his coffee cup, trying to ignore the shaking in his hand.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

Mark looked up and shrugged. "Don't know. I mean, it's been three weeks and there's no improvement. She can't get any thinner…she can't."

"You really love her, don't you?"

Mark blinked back tears and nodded.

Roger went to the fridge and sighed. "We're out of…everything. I'm gonna go to the grocery store."

Mark nodded. Roger went to the jar they always kept money in and pulled out a handful of crumpled bills. He grabbed his coat and slipped quietly out of the loft.

* * *

Roger hated it. He hated the pangs of guilt each time he met with The Man. He hated that he had to see him often since the money only came in small amounts. He hated that he'd returned to this.

Still, Roger loved the release when the smack rushed through his veins. It made him forget everything. He could forget the HIV, forget that he was disappointing Mark, forget that he'd driven Maureen back to her old ways. None of that mattered.

It had been three weeks now. Three weeks since their confrontation with Maureen. Three weeks since he'd gone back to The Man. Mark was too worried about Maureen to notice anything or anyone else. Collins was back at school. Roger barely hid it from him. He got high after leaving the loft and didn't bother with making excuses when he came home. Mark never asked, so Roger just slipped into his room or out to the roof until his high had subsided enough to pass for normalcy.

* * *

He came home after the high had kicked in. As he slid open the door to the loft, he realized something was going on. The loft seemed quiet. Maybe Mark was just out filming. He grinned and stepped into the loft.

"Hey Mark."

"Where's the groceries?"

Shit. He'd forgotten. Mark stood in front of the refrigerator, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"Where's the money?"

Roger's face went blank.

"Roger, don't even try. The fridge is full. What the hell did you do with the money?"

"It's…" Shit. _Lie, Davis, lie._ "It's, uh—"

Mark took a quick step towards him, staring at his eyes. "You son of a bitch."

"What?"

"Don't. Don't even—how the fuck could you do this?"

"Do what?"

"Don't play dumb, Roger. I can tell by looking at you that you're high."

"Leave me alone."

"No!"

"Damn it, Mark, leave me the fuck alone!"

"You swore you wouldn't do this shit anymore."

Roger ignored him, stalking towards the bedroom. Mark grabbed his arm.

"No! You're not walking away from this. What the hell is going on?"

"Thought you had it all figured out, Mark. I relapsed."

"Why? Why the hell…why now?"

"Why? Because I need to now."

"No you don't. Don't you get it, Roger? You don't need this!"

"Don't tell me what I need! I do need this!"

"Roger—"

Roger slapped him across the face. He took advantage of Mark's stunned reaction to stumble back out of the loft, grabbing the money jar as he did. On the stairs, he yanked out the bills and dropped the rest on the staircase.

Smack always magnified Roger's emotions, anger especially. His impulses took over and he strode down the street, seething with rage. His intent was to go to The Man. When Roger passed the grocery store, though, he got a better idea. He'd end all of this. For good. All the pain, all the bullshit. He'd end it all. Just like April.

* * *

**Note: **_Okay, I know he's going back and forth a lot, but drug withdrawal isn't easy, especially without professional help. Aside from that, Benny (at least in the movie vers.) says "Roger, you're lookin' good for somebody coming off a year of withdrawals" and Collins says "Oh hi? After seven months"--which means Collins wasn't there for all of Roger's withdrawal. The next chapter will introduce Joanne to the story. We're nearing RENT-time so this story's drawing to a close (I think). Please review!_


	36. So Much to Care About

"Mark? I'm, um, I'm all packed," Maureen said, setting the suitcase on the ground.

"Benny should be on his way."

Maureen sat down on the couch, fidgeting. Mark put a hand over one of hers. She looked up at him, holding back tears.

"This is good, baby. This is a good thing."

She nodded. "I know, I know…I just…I'm just scared. What if it's like last time? What if I come out okay and then it happens again? Or what if I don't get better? Or what if I do and then—"

Mark put a hand lightly over her mouth. "Maureen, no what-ifs. This is good. If this happens again, then I'll help you again. And you will get better because you're strong and you're fiery and I won't let you go. I love you and I will always love you."

Maureen smiled through her tears and threw her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered.

They jumped when they heard a horn honking outside. Benny had agreed to drive her to the treatment clinic. Mark had called her parents that morning and they'd agreed to pay. Mark picked up her suitcase and held Maureen's hand.

"Where's Roger?"

Mark shook his head. "Not sure. He, um, he had…"

"He's using again, isn't he?"

"Baby, don't worry about Roger. Not now. Right now is about you. Okay?"

She nodded and let Mark lead her downstairs.

* * *

Roger returned home to find the loft empty. Weird. Middle of the day you'd think someone would be home. He saw a note on the table.

_Roger,_

_Maureen's going to a treatment facility. Benny and I are taking her. Home soon._

_Mark_

"Whatever," he mumbled, striding into the living room.

Roger reached into the plastic bag and pulled out the newly purchased bottle. He set it on the table. One more thing to do. The note. Mark deserved that much. That much Roger could give him.

Roger blinked back tears and curled up on the couch to write.

_Mark,_

_I'm so sorry. I know I've fucked up a lot. I'm selfish and a complete bastard. I don't deserve to have a best friend like you. If I stick around, I'm afraid I'll only hurt you more. You and Maureen and Collins. I know you and Collins say Maureen's problems aren't my fault, but they are. It's my fault that she went back to it. I know what sets her off and I didn't care. I can't do this anymore. I know you guys think I'm strong enough to beat this addiction, but I'm not. I can't do it, Mark. I can't. I'm…I hate who I am. I hate what the drugs do to me but you have no idea how bad it hurts without them. I don't want to be like this anymore. I don't want to drag you guys down with me. I don't want to hurt anybody anymore. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me for all the shit that I did. Please. I'm sorry. I love you. Tell Collins and Maureen that I'm sorry and I love them too. _

_Goodbye,_

_Roger_

When he finished the letter, Roger was shaking. It had been hours since his last fix. He wiped away some of the tears streaking down his cheeks. The door to the loft slid open but Roger's tears blocked the sound. When he looked up, he saw Mark standing in front of him. The filmmaker looked tired, angry. He grabbed the paper from Roger's hands and read it, shaking his head. Roger was surprised to see tears in Mark's eyes.

"Roger, no. Please don't do this. Don't—did you…"

Roger's eyes drifted to the full bottle of aspirin. He expected Mark to throw it, to scream at him or hit him even. Instead, Mark sank down to the seat beside him and put his arms around Roger, pulling the crying musician into his arms.

"I can't do this, Mark. I can't. I can't."

"Please, Roger. Please. Everything's so fucked up right now. Please. You can't do this. You can't leave us."

Benny stood in the doorway of the loft, wondering what the hell was going on. Maureen going into treatment was a good thing. This couldn't be over that. A paper on the ground beside his friends caught Benny's eye. He stooped to pick it up and read Roger's scratchy writing. His eyes fell on the aspirin bottle. Without a word, Benny picked up the bottle and brought it downstairs to his car. He wasn't sure what was going on or what Roger was capable of, but there was no way in hell that Benny was going to leave that bottle anywhere near Roger.

* * *

At the clinic, Maureen sat uncomfortably on her hospital bed. She hated this place already. Still, she trusted Mark when he said this would be for the better, that everything would work out okay. When her clothes were folded and neatly slipped into the drawers of the white dresser, Maureen decided to go to the sitting room. She didn't feel like being alone. She hated being alone.

The sitting room was the hospital term for their lounge. Maureen noticed that, despite it being nearly mid-afternoon, the room was nearly empty. A couple of girls read in the corner. The rest, she'd been told, were in therapy, either individual or group. Maureen's therapy sessions would start in the morning. She went to the window seat and curled up, leaning her head against the window. It reminded her of the loft window.

"Excuse me?" a voice asked.

Maureen looked over, surprised at the voice. A young African American woman stood next to her. The woman seemed to have already asked Maureen something.

"I'm sorry. I—"

"You were daydreaming. It's all right. I just wanted to know if you by any chance know where I might find one of the nurses."

"Um, I'm not sure. Isn't someone at the nurses' station?"

"No and I'm supposed to have lunch with my sister."

Maureen shrugged. "I'm sorry. I don't know. It's my first day here."

"Oh! Well, um, good luck then. Are you all settled in?"

Maureen nodded. The woman smiled at her, her brown eyes sparkling. Maureen held her hand out. "Maureen Johnson."

The woman shook her hand. "Joanne Jefferson."


	37. No More

Benny came back into the loft, feeling more relaxed now that the aspirin was tucked away safely in his car. When he reentered the loft, he saw Mark and Roger talking quietly. They stopped when he came in and Mark stood up. Benny held up his hands in defense.

"I get it. I'm going."

"Benny, that's not what I was going to say."

Benny stopped and lowered his hands. He glanced at Roger, who still sat on the couch, his knees now drawn to his chest.

"He okay?"

"You see the note?"

Benny nodded. "That's why I took the aspirin."

"Thanks. I, um, I need to ask a favor."

"Anything."

"I'm not sure how stable he is right now. Emotionally, I mean. I need you to go through the bathroom and kitchen with me and take anything that could…"

Benny nodded and followed Mark into the kitchen. Without a word, they dug out a bag and began dumping all their knives into it. Mark found a pair of scissors and added those. Benny held up a bottle of aspirin a little less than half full.

"What about these?"

"In the bag."

Mark grabbed a few bottles of beer that were still in the fridge. He opened them and dumped each one down the sink. When they were satisfied the kitchen was purged, they moved to the bathroom.

Mark found the extra razorblades and put them in the bag, adding his own razor.

"How you gonna shave?"

"Ben, we want Roger clean and alive. I'm not chancing him being able to do it because I wanted a smooth chin."

Benny nodded and grabbed Roger's razor. "Other scissors? Needles?"

Mark shook his head. "No, no…that's it."

Benny sighed. "He's been using again, right?"

Mark nodded.

"Here. Hold the bag."

Benny reached into the bathroom drawer and grabbed a pair of gloves. The hospital had been gracious enough to give them a box of gloves after Roger's diagnosis. Benny pulled on the gloves and grabbed the bag back from Mark.

"I'm going to check his room. Why don't you just go talk to him? Let me handle this."

"Thanks, Benny."

He nodded and gave the filmmaker a quick hug. "It's okay, Mark. He'll be okay. So will Maureen."

"Thanks."

Mark managed a small smile as he pulled away and headed back to Roger.

Benny took a deep breath and went to Roger's bedroom. He tried to figure out where to start. The dresser seemed an obvious spot. Sure enough, Benny found a razorblade and a pocketknife. He picked up both and added them to the garbage bag.

Opening each dresser drawer, Benny carefully felt around each corner, ran his hands along the bottom of each drawer and the underside of each. He found a bag of heroin in the third drawer. Hesitating, Benny set the bag down and brought the baggie to the bathroom. When the stash was flushed, Benny returned to the bedroom and continued his search. Nothing else in the dresser.

He yanked open the desk drawers. Roger seldom used the rickety old desk but Benny didn't want to chance missing a hiding spot. Nothing. He lifted the mattress and his eyes fell on a syringe. He picked it up and took it to the bag. Shaking his head, Benny dropped to his knees, staring under the bed. A few more syringes and needles that were promptly dropped into the bag.

When he was through, Benny carried the bag into the living room, he saw Mark and Roger now at the kitchen table. Mark had made tea or coffee, Benny wasn't sure which. Roger seemed a little more relaxed. The filmmaker saw him and nodded to him.

"I'm gonna get going, guys."

"Bye," they both said, Roger's voice quieter than Mark's.

As he headed downstairs, Benny was lost in thought. He knew Mark and the others were still pissed about him and Allison getting engaged. She could be a bitch sometimes, but still, he loved her. Everything seemed so screwed up now. Maureen had an eating disorder and was at an in-patient treatment facility. Roger was suicidal. Benny's thoughts consumed him and he didn't see the young girl until he'd bumped into her. He quickly shifted the bag to the hand furthest from her.

"Sorry. Excuse me," he mumbled.

"Don't worry about it," she said.

Benny turned around and continued down the stairs.

"Hey," she called out. Benny turned and looked up the stairs. The girl leaned over the railing. "Didn't catch your name."

"Benny. And yours?"

"Come to the Cat Scratch Club tonight and maybe you'll find out."

Benny chuckled and shook his head as the girl disappeared into another apartment.


	38. I Should Tell You

**Note: **_Sorry this took so long. Bit of writer's block with this story. Anyway, I know this chapter isn't terribly exciting but I wanted to show more Maureen-Joanne and give you guys something. Please review! I'm almost at 100! _

Maureen sat at the same window seat she was always at. She hadn't befriended the other girls who were in treatment. She was older than most of them. Besides that, she didn't want to befriend them. She wanted her old friends. Maureen wanted to just go back to the loft and hang out with Roger and Collins and Benny…and Mark. She missed Mark more than she'd thought she would.

"Maureen? You doing okay?"

She looked up. Joanne was there smiling at her.

"Hey, Joanne. Yeah, I just…wait, where's your sister?"

"Marie's got therapy for another hour."

"But you came here knowing that?"

Joanne smiled. "Thought maybe I'd chat with you for a little while."

Maureen smiled back and felt butterflies jump in her stomach. What the hell was that?

"You get any visitors yet?"

Maureen shook her head. "Not for another two weeks. Doctor said I should be focusing on me for the first month."

"Yeah. Marie hated that part of it."

"So did I."

"You mean so do you."

"Nah, did. This is my second go around. Last time I was seventeen."

Joanne sat beside her and frowned. "If you don't mind my asking, is there—I mean, I know there's no one event that causes an eating disorder but, well, you're a very attractive woman. What could possibly make you think…"

Maureen blushed. Joanne thought she was attractive? More butterflies. Maureen bit her lip. What the hell was going on with her? "For me, it's control. I need something to control. Last time it spiraled because my parents were controlling and trying to make every decision in my life for me."

"And this time?"

Why was it so easy to talk to this woman? This was all things she hadn't even told Mark until just recently. Mark. Mark was the one who gave her butterflies. Mark who she loved and who adored her.

Joanne misinterpreted the look on her face. "I'm sorry. That's really not my business."

"No, no it's okay. A couple months ago, my best friend's girlfriend killed herself. He tried to do the same and then we found out that he's a heroin addict and that he's HIV-positive."

"Oh, honey," Joanne sighed, putting a friendly arm around her. "That's…I'm so sorry."

Maureen shrugged, brushing some tears away. "Guess this is just how I've been dealing with it."

"What made you finally decide to get treatment?"

Mark. "I'm not sure. I just…I can't deal with everything. Anything. Mark suggested this and it sounded like a good idea. Plus, like I said, I'd been through treatment before."

"Is Mark the best friend who was there last time?" Joanne asked, arm moving from Maureen shoulder to hold her hand.

"Oh no. That's Roger. Mark's my…my boyfriend."

"Oh." Joanne dropped her hand. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—I didn't realize—"

Maureen blushed, feeling strangely guilty. _Why the hell should I feel guilty? I didn't do anything. We're only talking and so what if I have a boyfriend? It's not like I was leading her on…was I? No, no that's ridiculous. She's probably straight anyway. No, no, straight women wouldn't react the way she just did. Rejected._

"Ms. Jefferson?" the nurse called. "Marie should be out in five minutes."

"Okay. Thank you."

Joanne stood up and turned to go. Maureen reached out and grabbed her hand. "Joanne?"

"Ye-yeah?"

"I'm sorry I didn't mention it before. I mean, that I have a boyfriend."

Joanne gave a small smile. "No big deal. You're a young, beautiful, intelligent woman. Should've realized you'd be taken."

"Will you, um, d-do you think you could maybe still come visit me? Just as a friend, of course."

"Of course. I'd like that."

Maureen stood and hugged her, not caring that the butterflies had returned.

"You should go," Mark told Benny.

"What? Why?"

Mark shook his head. "He gets…look, the withdrawals are gonna be bad. I can tell already."

"All the more reason I should stay then."

"Benny, I know you want to help but this is something that I—"

"Can't do alone. So unless you tell me Collins is comin' back, I'm staying."

Mark sighed. "Benny, listen to me. I know you're trying to help but I'll be fine with Roger. He wouldn't hurt me. I know how to deal with him."

"Like you knew how to deal when Collins walked in on you two beatin' the hell out of each other?"

"Does Maureen tell you everything?"

"Everything important," he said with a shrug.

"Well that's in the past. I can deal with this."

"Mark, this isn't about you."

"Benny, please. I'll call you if I need help."

"Promise?"

"Yes."

"And I want you callin' Allison's every night to let me know you're both okay."

Mark nodded. Benny stepped forward and hugged him. "Thanks, Ben."

"It's okay."

He moved towards Roger. "I'm, uh, I'm gonna get goin' now."

"Okay."

"That cool?"

Roger nodded. Benny noticed his hands shaking. He gave a small nod of the head and left, praying Mark would be true to his word and call if things got out of hand.


	39. Spoilers!

Please note that this isn't an actual chapter. It's a list of what's still-to-come. Just a little tidbit to tide you over until I get the next chapters up. I've admittedly taken the idea for the spoilers from Renthead324, who has awesome stories and spoilers.

So, without further ado, here's a little sneak preview about what's coming up (in no particular order):

--Maureen leaves treatment…with Joanne's phone number

--Collins learns about Roger's relapse

--Benny pays a visit to the dancer from the Cat Scratch Club

--What exactly happened to Benny that resulted in him telling Allison "ever since the wedding I'm dirt"

--The Cohens pay a visit to the loft

--Roger's mother calls

--Mark and Maureen face some troubles

--Roger visits April and gets some much needed advice


	40. So Be Kind

**Note: **_Okay, so after re-reading the chapter and some reviews, I decided to just slightly edit this one to clarify the time. Also, please note that the chapter with Joanne and Maureen (where Maureen gets butterflies) isn't factored into "loft time" if that makes sense...sort of a "this is what happened to Maureen" and then going back to "meanwhile, at the loft..."--hope that makes sense. Please let me know if you need clarification. LOL In short, the loft is still the day Mark took Maureen to the rehab hospital._

"Where'd Benny go?" Roger asked. "He was only here for a minute…"

"Don't change the subject, Roger."

He nodded and shifted on the couch. Mark noticed the trembling in his hands. He put one hand over Roger's.

"How long has it been?"

"I'm not sure…I took a hit this morning. It was, um, it was early, before you and Maureen were up."

Mark nodded and moved his hand to Roger's forehead. Sweaty, but no temperature. "You're going to be fine."

Roger chuckled. "Glad one of us thinks so."

Mark stared at him. "You will be Roger. There is too much shit going down right now. I'm not letting you get away so easy."

"Why not?" Roger asked. His eyes filled with miserable tears.

"Because you're my best friend. Because believe it or not, you're a good man, Rog. You're like my brother and I'm not giving up on you."

Roger managed a small smile as he broke down in tears. Mark pulled him into his arms again, rocking him until the tears dissipated. When he'd calmed some, Mark pulled back enough to make eye contact.

"How about you go to bed for a little bit?"

Roger nodded and stood, shaking. As he stood, his face changed. Mark recognized the look.

"Gonna be sick," Roger muttered as he lunged towards the bathroom.

Mark followed him in, pausing only to grab a cup from the kitchen counter. Roger was leaned over the toilet, throwing up everything he seemed to have eaten in the last day and a half. Mark went to the sink and filled the cup with cool water. He set it on the floor and knelt beside Roger, rubbing small circles into his back. When he'd stopped, Mark handed him the water. Roger took a sip of it and sat back against the wall. Mark grabbed a towel from the counter and wiped the sweat from Roger's forehead.

"Okay?"

Roger managed a small nod. Mark helped him to his feet and slid Roger's arm over his shoulder, steadying him. They staggered the few feet to Roger's room and Mark helped him lay back. The shakiness had turned to chills. Mark pulled the blanket over Roger and went to the door.

"Mark!"

"It's okay, Roger. I'm just going to get you another blanket."

Roger nodded. Mark went to the closet and found a couple of extra blankets. He brought them to the bedroom and draped them on top of Roger.

"Better?"

Roger nodded again. Mark sat beside him.

"You okay?"

Roger shrugged and mumbled something. Mark couldn't tell what, so he brushed the hair from his friend's forehead.

"Get some sleep, Rog."

"Where are you going?" Roger asked when he stood up.

"Living room. I'll be right out there. I won't leave."

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

Mark picked up the phone and dialed the number to Maureen's rehab center. The receptionist answered promptly, rattling off the usual greeting.

"Hi, my name's Mark Cohen. I was hoping to talk to my girlfriend, Maureen Johnson. She's a patient."

"One moment please."

Mark waited a few minutes before the receptionist picked back up. "I'm sorry, Mr. Cohen. I'm afraid that Ms. Johnson is sleeping."

"Listen, I haven't been able to talk to her since I dropped her off this morning. Can you just tell me if she's doing okay?"

"She seems to be adjusting all right. I can leave a message for her, if you'd like, and have her call you back in the morning."

"That would be great. Could you just tell her Mark called and I love her?"

"Of course, Mr. Cohen."

"Thank you."

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

Benny was halfway to Allison's before he pulled the car over. This was ridiculous. Roger was his friend. He should be there helping just like Mark. Pulling out his cell phone, he tried to decide if it would be better to call the loft or just show up. Knowing Mark, he'd insist everything was fine and tell Benny to go back to Allison's. Benny sighed and dialed his girlfriend's house.

"Allison, baby, it's me."

"Hi, honey. You on your way?" Benny could tell by her voice that she'd been sleeping.

"Uh…no, not exactly. Listen, something came up and I need to stay in the city a few days."

"Why?"

"I told you. Something came up. My friends need me nearby, okay?"

He could tell she wasn't pleased, but she didn't argue. "All right. Just call me in the morning, all right?"

"Of course, baby. I love you."

"I love you too, Benjamin."

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

Mark sat on the couch, unsure of what to do. In the hours since he'd helped Roger to bed, he'd already washed the dishes, straightened the bookshelf, and cleaned all his camera equipment.

He jumped when he heard Roger scream, then glanced at the clock. Almost midnight. _Here come the nightmares,_ he sighed as he headed to the bedroom.

Roger writhed on the bed, crying out. Mark had to bite back his own tears when he understood what Roger was saying.

"April! April, no! Please…please…I can't! I can't do this! Please, April! April!"

Mark grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him. "Roger! Roger, wake up!"

His eyes jerked open. He saw Mark and gasped.

"Deep breaths, Roger. It's okay. You were just having a nightmare."

Roger nodded, saying nothing. He'd had nightmares the first time too. Mark knew he wouldn't talk about them. He no longer bothered asking.

"Feeling okay?"

"Too fuckin' hot," he mumbled, throwing the blankets to the floor. He yanked off his sweatshirt, leaving on the thin white tank-top beneath it.

Mark stood back, staring at him. "Other than the hot, you okay?"

Roger nodded, biting his lip.

"Want to come try and eat something?"

"Nauseous," he said, shaking his head.

Mark nodded. "Okay. How about—"

"Do we have any Tylenol?"

"I'm not sure. I'll go look. You have a headache or something?"

"Headache, muscle aches…"

Mark nodded. "I'll go check."

He shut the door quietly and made a point to make noise in the kitchen and bathroom before tiptoeing to his room. Mark knew he still had some Tylenol in there that he'd forgotten to give Benny. He didn't want to chance Roger finding out where it was. A few minutes later, he brought in two pills and a glass of water.

Roger took the water and downed the pills. A beeper sounded in the living room. Mark got up and turned it off before grabbing the AZT they kept in the kitchen cabinet.

"Here."

Roger stared at the pills for a minute before taking them. Mark patted his leg.

"It's okay, Rog. They'll help you feel better."

"Not as much as something else would…"

Mark pretended not to hear him.

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

Benny knocked on the door to the loft and waited for Mark to answer it.

"Benny, what are you doing here? It's almost two in the morning."

"He's my friend too. Not right that I make you guys do this alone."

Mark smiled. "Glad you feel that way. Roger's sleeping."

"Right, well, then, I suggest we get some shut-eye too. My room still here?"

"Always," Mark said, stepping aside to let him in.


	41. Dear Old Mom

Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Davis called from the payphone on the corner. She'd only been to the loft once, but she remembered needing to call for keys. It took her a few minutes to make it up the three flights of stairs, during which time Roger nearly locked himself in the bathroom.

"I can't, Mark. I can't tell her," he said, trying to shove the door closed.

Mark pushed back, keeping the door open and his foot in the slight space. Normally, Roger was much stronger than Mark but the withdrawals had weakened him.

"Roger, your mom's on her way upstairs. You can either get your ass out here and act like an adult or you can lock yourself in there like a five year old and undoubtedly panic her when she finds you there."

Roger hesitated but stepped back out into the living room. He'd just settled on the couch when the loft door slid open.

"Roger! Honey, how are you?"

"Hi, Mom," he mumbled, standing to hug her.

She squeezed him tightly, kissing his cheek. When he'd wrenched free, Mrs. Davis turned her attentions to Mark.

"Oh, Mark, there you are! Give me a hug," she said, wrapping her arms around him.

Mark smiled. "Hey, Mrs. Davis. Nice to see you again."

"Now what's this that you couldn't tell your mother on the phone?"

"Mom, I think you need to sit down," Roger said.

She frowned but did as he'd asked, taking a seat beside her son on the couch. Mark sat on the rocking chair, close enough for Roger's comfort but not so close that he was invading their privacy.

"What is it? Did you and April break up?"

"Mom, April's dead," he said softly.

"What?" she looked to Mark, who could only nod. "What happened? When?"

"She…she killed herself. It was, um, a couple months ago?"

Mark nods.

"Oh my…honey, you poor thing. And Mark, you too…I'm so sorry, boys."

"Mom, that's not all…"

She looked back and forth between them. Roger blinked back tears and looked to Mark. The filmmaker nodded to him. "Go ahead, Rog. It's okay."

"Mom, I have to tell you some stuff and you're not gonna like it. I, um…just…I was really messed up when I was with the band, you know? And then I met April and she, um, she…."

"Honey, whatever it is, please just tell me. You're worrying me," Mrs. Davis said, reaching over to hold one of his hands.

"April was a drug addict. And I started doing it with her."

"Doing what with her?"

Roger bit his lip and took a shaky breath. "Drugs. Heroin, mostly."

Mrs. Davis's free hand went to her mouth. Her eyes shot over to Mark. "Do you do that too?"

Mark shook his head.

"Did you know about it?"

"No, not until after April died."

"Do you still do it?" she asked, her gaze shooting back to Roger.

"N-no, no…Mark helped me get clean. He's helping me get clean."

"Good. Good. That's good. Thank you, Mark."

She reached over and touched Roger's cheek.

"Honey, it's…you know how I feel about that sort of thing—"

"I know, Ma, and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I'm glad, but what I was going to say is that I'm very proud of you for stopping. Especially after such a loss—"

"I have HIV," he blurted.

Mrs. Davis's eyes widened. "You what?"

"I have HIV."

"HIV? Isn't that AIDS?" she asked, looking to Mark.

"Same virus, but AIDS is more progressed. People with HIV are usually still relatively healthy."

"But that means you'll…no…no, you don't have HIV. What in the world would make you even think such a thing?"

"Mom, I got a test done—"

"Why? Why in the world would you have that test done?"

"Because April had it too."

"What?"

"That's why she killed herself. She went and got tested and when the results came in positive, she left me a note that said 'Baby, we got AIDS' and killed herself."

"You just said it's not AIDS."

"The difference between HIV and AIDS is the T-Cell count in your blood cells. April, by the time she was diagnosed, had a really low count, which is considered full-blown AIDS. When we had Roger tested, his T-Cell count was actually very high so he's still diagnosed as HIV-positive but not AIDS," Mark said calmly.

"So she said you had AIDS because she did?"

"She had no way of knowing my T-Cell count. She figured that if she had AIDS, so did I."

"Why would she think that? How did you even get it? I thought only gay people get that."

Roger shook his head, calming with every answer. "No, no, a lot of people think it's only gay people but, um, it's not. I'm not sure how I got it. And I'm not sure if I gave it to April or if she gave it to me. It was either drugs or sex."

"Drugs or sex?"

"Yeah. April and I shared needles, which means we could've given it to each other. And, um, we didn't always use condoms," he blushed as he said the last part.

Mrs. Davis shook her head and stood up. Mark thought she was going to leave, but she paced the loft, one hand on her hip, shaking her head. "I don't understand it. I don't. You're a young man. A young heterosexual man. Why? Why on earth…And drugs? Roger, I thought I raised you better than that."

"You did, Ma. You did. This isn't because of anything you did."

"Then why?"

Roger shrugged. "I don't know…I just…I don't know."

Mrs. Davis turned back to him, tears in trickling down her cheeks. She sat beside him and pulled him into her arms. Roger let go of the tears he'd been holding back.

"My baby…"

Mark gave a sympathetic smile and slipped into his room. Roger had asked him to be there for reassurance. He didn't need that from Mark now.

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

At the Cat Scratch Club, Benny shifted uncomfortably in his seat. This was so stupid. He shouldn't even be here. He was married. Happily married. Well, sort of happily. His eyes swept the club again and again. The girl probably hadn't even meant it. It was probably just a joke. Benny debated about getting up and leaving when the lights onstage dimmed.

"Okay, gentlemen, let's put our hands together for Mimi and her famous lawn-chair handcuff dance!"

Benny hesitated, intrigued. What the hell was a lawn-chair handcuff dance? His jaw nearly dropped at the woman onstage. It was her. The girl from the loft. She swiveled and pranced across the stage. He sat back, wondering if she'd remember him. They'd seated him near enough to the stage that he knew she'd see him.

A minute later, the girl dropped into a chair. He watched in awe as another dancer slipped a pair of shining silver handcuffs on. The girl writhed on the chair, feigning struggle before sliding to the floor. She rose up to her knees, flipping her hair over one shoulder. Benny locked eyes with her. She grinned and winked at him. He blushed. _What am I doing here? Allie would kill me…_

--LINE BREAK--LINE BREAK--

Mark looked up from his notebook. "Come in."

The bedroom door opened and Mrs. Davis slipped in. "Mark, can I speak with you for a minute?"

"Sure, is Roger—"

Roger poked his head in. Mark noted the dried tears staining his cheeks, but also a faint smile. "I'm okay, Mark. I'll be in my room. Not goin' anywhere."

Mark nodded and Roger disappeared. Mrs. Davis came into the room and sat on the end of Mark's bed.

"Are you okay, Mrs. Davis?"

She nodded slowly. Her green eyes, the eyes she'd given Roger, gazed up at him tearfully. "Just a lot to handle on one day."

Mark nodded. "I didn't realize that Roger hadn't told you."

"Roger doesn't always know how to talk about things like that…"

"Noticed that," he said with a light laugh.

"I just wanted to see if you're okay."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. April was one of your friends too. Between that and my son's problems and then the troubles he told me about with Maureen, you certainly haven't had an easy time."

Mark shrugged, blushing. Nobody ever asked if he was doing okay. "I'm…I'm fine. Really."

"Mark…"

He smiled. "I'm fine, Mrs. Davis. I promise."

"Okay then. Well I need to be going, but I wanted to give you something first. For all of you kids."

Mark frowned, looking confused. Mrs. Davis reached into her purse and pulled out her checkbook. He shook his head.

"Oh, Mrs. Davis, we don't—"

"Mark, I'm not asking if you'd like help, I'm giving it to you. Besides, I looked in the cupboards and they're not nearly full enough for grown men to be living off of."

Mark shrugged, knowing she was right. The cabinets and fridge were what the Boho boys considered stocked, meaning as full as they could afford. Unfortunately that translated to a couple boxes of cereal, some packages of noodles, and maybe even something other than alcohol to drink.

"Now, I don't have much cash on me. Do you have a bank where you could cash a check?"

Mark nodded. "But you really don't have to—"

Mrs. Davis set down the checkbook and grabbed Mark's hand. "Listen to me, young man. I know I don't have to do anything. However, I want to help my son and his friends. Whether they want that help or not. Now no arguing. Understand?"

"Yes, Mrs. Davis…and thanks."

She wrote out a check and folded it in half before slipping it into Mark's hand. "Now, you use that and get whatever you boys need. Or Maureen, of course, if she needs anything. I mean anything, Mark. Food, rent, heat…I can't imagine my son's medications are cheap. You spend it how you think is best."

Mark nodded, slipping it into his pocket without daring to unfold it. He knew that any amount she'd written on it would seem extravagant and that arguing would do no good. Mrs. Davis smiled and stood up. Mark walked her to the door. She hugged him tightly.

"Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For taking care of my son."

Mark blushed. "It's—it's not something you need to thank me for."

She smiled and nodded, patting his back. "You call me if you kids need anything at all, all right?"

"Okay…and thanks. Really."

"You take care of yourself, Mark."

"You too, Mrs. Davis," he said.

When she'd disappeared down the stairs, Mark turned and went to Roger's room.


	42. Expectations

**Note: **_Okay, this is a short chapter but I realized it's been forever since I updated this story and wanted to get a lil something up. It's not going to be a lot more. I want to try and wrap this story up by chapter 50, but we'll see. Hope you like!_

"Roger? You okay?" Mark asked as he stepped into the musician's room.

Roger was sitting on the bed, his back to the door. He was staring at something in his hands. As Mark slowly approached, he saw what it was. A picture. A snapshot Mark hadn't seen before of Roger as a kid with his dad. Mark put a hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say.

"She said he's looking out for me," Roger said.

"Your dad?"

Roger nodded, not moving his eyes from the picture. "All I keep thinking is how…how disappointed he'd be…"

"Roger, your dad wouldn't be disappointed in you. You're getting your life together, you're talented, you're smart…"

"Do you know what his dream was?"

"What?"

"See me become a doctor or a lawyer. Something big. Look at me now," he said, turning to face Mark.

Mark sat on the bed beside him and hugged him. "Roger, your dad would be proud of you for straightening up. He'd have kicked your ass for being an addict but then he would've kissed you and hugged you and told you how much he loved you and how proud he is that you're getting clean."

Roger's head fell to Mark's shoulder and he began to shake as he cried, the picture still in his hand.

**--line break--line break--**

"Maureen? You have a visitor," the orderly said.

Maureen looked up and smiled when she saw Joanne. "Hi!"

"Hey…I know that technically you're not supposed to have visitors but I'm visiting Marie later so I thought I'd come early and see if maybe you wanted to go for a walk or something."

"That'd be nice," Maureen said, picking up her coat.

**--line break--line break--**

Benny sat at the bar, wondering what to do. Okay so the girl from the loft building was Mimi. Now what? Follow her? Go backstage? Benny shook his head and ordered another drink. _I'm married. I can't—anything…_

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to see Mimi, redressed in street clothes, beaming at him.

"Thought that was you."

Benny blushed. "Yeah, yeah, it's me."

"Benny, right?"

He nodded. "Is, uh, is Mimi your real name or a stage name?"

"Real enough," she said.

She hopped up onto the stool beside him and ordered a drink. "So what brings you here?"

_Shit…she'd…she told him to come, didn't she?_ Benny took another gulp of his drink. "Just, uh, thought I'd stop by and see what your name is, since you didn't want to tell me in the stairwell."

"Oh I wanted to tell you."

"Why didn't you?"

She shrugged. "Wasn't sure how badly you wanted to know."

**--line break--line break--**

Mark pulled away from Roger when his tears had stopped. "Better?"

Roger gave a hesitant nod.

"You look exhausted. How about a nap?"

Roger nodded again and lay back on his bed. Mark gave a small smile, amazed at how like the little boy in the picture Roger looked at that moment. He pulled the blanket up over Roger's body.

"Cold?"

Roger shook his head. "Thanks."

"I'll be in the living room."

Roger nodded and Mark slipped from the room, shutting the door quietly behind him. For the first time, Mark didn't feel the need to lock the door. Roger wasn't going anywhere.


	43. I'll Call

"Hello?"

"Hey, man. It's Collins."

"How's MIT?"

"Ugh…change the subject."

Mark had to laugh. "Okay. How are you?"

"I'm hangin' in there. You?"

"I'm doing pretty good."

"And the kids?"

Mark smiled. "Maureen's fine. Doing really well."

"And Roger?"

Mark hesitated. "Don't get mad."

"Not a good way to start a conversation, Mark."

"I know…"

"You just want to protect him. I get that. Just spill it."

"He relapsed. He's okay though. It was a slipup and we fixed it and he's doing good."

"Was this a one-time slipup?"

"Not exactly…it was right after you left and he managed to hide it for three weeks while things were going on with Maureen."

"And after you found out?"

"He's clean."

"You two fight?"

"No, actually."

"Well, I got class. He's clean now though. You're sure?"

"Yeah."

"Okay well I will call you later to talk about this. And you tell Roger we'll be having a long talk when I call this weekend."

"Will do."

_

* * *

_

_Three months later…_

"I'm going home," Maureen said quietly.

Joanne nodded, smiling. "Good. That's good. You've been doing a lot better."

"Yeah…I just…Mark only visited me twice…"

"And?"

"And I, um, I don't…I don't know if I still feel the same about him. I've been second guessing myself and my whole relationship with him and now I'm just afraid that he…that I…" Maureen knew she was babbling.

"You're afraid that once you get back, things will be too different and you won't feel the same way about each other."

Maureen nodded. "Exactly."

Joanne rummaged through her purse and found a card and a pen. "Here. It's my card. My home number's on the back. I don't live far from Alphabet City. If you need anything, or if you and Mark don't work out or if you just want to talk, you call me. Okay?"

Maureen nodded, smiling. She tucked the card carefully into her pocket. "Thanks."


End file.
